Soft to the Touch
by ilikecrystals
Summary: Sam and Dean are camping on a haunted lake. Dean is in love and Sam has no idea. This story contains SLASH/Wincest. Please point out any errors or crap writing so I can fix. I love constructive criticism and reviews so bring 'em! :D
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey all, if you like my stories enough to Favorite Author and Favorite Story me, why not feed my ego with a review? Let me know what you liked, what you didn't, what could be done better or anything else you'd like to tell me. Reviews and comments absolutely make my day! If you're not comfortable posting here, send me a private message. I write mostly to become a better writer so if you have constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it! And thanks for reading! **

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**The second night**

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The fire licks into the air between them.

Through the flames, Dean watches his brother, the shadows playing off the sculptured face, shaggy bangs hanging down, and the orange-yellow flickers of light dance on his smooth skin. The fire is reflected in the ever-changing color of Sam's dark eyes, now narrowed against the wisps of smoke working their lazy way towards him in the gentle breeze.

He catches Dean's look, staring at him across the heat, and Dean sees something in the depths of those eyes, something dark and hungry glittering there, just before Sam's face goes hazy and smeared in the air just above the blaze. When he can see him clearly again, when the flickers have crackled down and Dean's focus is sharp and hard, Sam's gaze is now on the images dancing in the flames and the lust was probably imagined, just wishful thinking…

The smell of the fire whets his appetite, sharp apple wood and cedar ash curling into his stomach, making Dean's mouth water but not for food. No, he's definitely not craving food.

God, Sam's so fucking beautiful and he has no idea, none at all, how much Dean wants him. It's in the shiver down his spine, the desire, the need, the absolute longing to touch his brother in a very non-brotherly way, with plunging fingers and a hot mouth, yearning to feast on Sam's soul and indulge himself in all the delicious flavors he finds there.

Dean doesn't know quite when it happened, when he started having feelings towards his brother, when the love he's always felt for Sam changed, grew and became something else, something consuming and terrifying.

Truth is, Dean's been in love with Sam for years. He tries to remember when he first realized it but it seems like it's always been a part of him. That's not quite true. He may not have known when it happened but he does remember when he first accepted it, can pinpoint the exact time, the exact _second_, that he admitted to himself that he loved Sam totally and completely, heart, mind and soul.

_The exact second._

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**Three years ago**

**#**

It was just after Dean told Sam Dad's 'secret'…the awful thing Dad had told him right before he died, about the demon's plans for Sam and that if Dean couldn't save his brother, he'd have to kill Sam.

Sam had gotten drunk, while they were working the motel job, the one with those freaking weird-ass dolls, and, after calling Dean short (_and bossy, Dean remembered with a scowl_), had revealed his guilt about not being able to save everyone and his fear at what he was becoming. The worries that haunted Sam's dreams and plagued him every second he was awake had finally spilled out, messy and nasty, all over the ground at Dean's feet, and he'd begged Dean, no, _pleaded_ with his brother to give him a promise - to do what Dad had said to…to kill him if Sam became evil.

And God help him, Dean had made him that promise, with Sam's stinking whiskey breath in his nose and Sam's huge, trusting eyes staring up into his own, and after he'd promised, Sam's hot hand on his face, his mouth so close to Dean's that when Sam had gasped out a "Thank you." a quick dip forward would have been all it took to change the moment into a kiss.

All Dean wanted right then, at that second in time, was to kiss all Sam's worries away, suck those soft lips into his own, make Sam understand that he'd always be there, would never leave him and would never, _ever_ let anyone hurt him.

He'd muscled Sam down onto the bed, watched his brother roll over and instantly pass out while Dean had leaned back, rubbed the spit off his face from Sam's desperate, drunken ramblings and wondered what the _fuck_ was the matter with him.

And when the hell would he ever get over this?

His breath caught over the lump in his chest; making breathing impossible as he let his eyes roam over Sam's body for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Desire rose up in him as Dean let his gaze wander along his brother's lithe form. His mouth watered as he took in the long legs that swelled into a tight ass, the jeans loose and torn but the saggy denim unable to hide the taut flesh that flexed underneath. His eyes burned with desire from the flash of skin glimpsed under the shirt hem pulled loose, the sexy back under the flannel shirt toned and sleek from years of training, those strong tanned arms that curled under the pillow and that hair, the tousled mop that always hung in Sam's face. He used his hair as a curtain, Dean thought, to hide both from the world and from Dean's penetrating gaze.

That hair was so perfect for running fingers through…

Dean pushed a hand through his own hair as fear churned through his belly at his thoughts, mortified for the _thousandth time_ that this was his brother, his _baby brother_ he was thinking this shit about and then he'd rubbed a finger over his lips, wondering how Sam would taste if he _did _steal a kiss, wondering how long it would take his brother to slug him into next week and idly contemplating just how big Sam's dick really was and if it was proportional to-

_Shit, God damn and fuck! _

Dean had jumped to his feet, angry at himself for being such a twisted sick son of a bitch and angry at Sam for…well, for just being there, for being so utterly, heart-breakingly beautiful, gorgeous, soft and sweet and…and so _goddamn_ impossible to have!

He'd backed up to the door, heart pounding hard, scared to even be in the same room because all of a sudden, the want for Sam had risen up so fast in his chest, in his gut that he couldn't trust himself. Dean had felt his body move of its own accord and he'd actually taken one step towards Sam before he pulled back on the reins and stopped himself.

Shit, he couldn't resist, couldn't _not_ touch and if he stayed, he was gonna let his hands wander along that peek of skin over Sam's hip to his belly, yank Sam onto his back and use his mouth on that flesh, see what Sam really tasted like and wake his brother up good and proper.

Dean reached behind him and fumbled for the door handle, twisted it in his hands, desperately turned it, ripped it open and had run hell-bent for the stairs, his body had screamed for him to stay but he'd run like the devil himself was after him and he'd made it to the car, jumped in, breathing hard, turned the key and squealed away before he could change his mind.

He'd parked the car about two miles down the road, surprised by tears that streamed down his face, his heart ached inside him, ripped open and bloody and he'd beaten the steering wheel with a hard fist, sobbed out his fear and need, wiped snot away with his sleeve and wished to Christ this feeling would just go the _fuck_ away.

He pounded the steering wheel again_. Goddamn! Just fucking goddamn!_

He breathed in then out. He'd huffed in air, tried to calm down, to think and that's when it had happened. A feeling of tired acceptance passed over him, his rage and fear ebbed away when it came and he nodded to himself. Ok, ok, that's it, then. It wouldn't go away, it would _never_ go away so he was just gonna have to learn to live with it.

Dean breathed in deep. Ok, he wanted his brother _like that_. Ok, he wanted to kiss those sweet lips and taste that hot mouth and touch that soft skin…

Yes, ok. Good man, Dean. He hadn't fooled himself or lied to himself. He'd dealt with what was right in front of him, just like a Winchester should.

The bitch of it all was, Dean could never let himself have it, any of it because Sam would get hurt. It would ruin them as brothers, Dean was sure of it, and Sam would hate him, be disgusted by him and probably would leave him. Hell, he was disgusted and hated himself so he couldn't expect Sam to react much different. Nope, he had to resist or Sammy would get damaged and broken, just like Dean was broken and he'd be damned before he let that happen.

Dean wouldn't let it out, that's all there was to it. No matter how much he wanted or needed, he would just keep on denying, resisting, pushing it down and inward, and never let Sam see, never show its face to the light where it could hurt them.

From then on, the war raged inside of him and each day Dean was triumphant, able to push away the love, the aching hunger for Sam that festered in his gut. Each day he resisted and when he _couldn't_ resist any longer, when it became too much for him, he would leave Sam in whatever motel they were in that night and go out prowling. He would find whatever warm and willing body he could to shove himself into and he wouldn't think of Sam, not once, when he was fucking some woman deep and hard, wouldn't picture Sam underneath him, hot and panting, huge trusting eyes locked onto his while he whispered the words up to him, "Promise me…"

Dean had slept in the same room all the past three years, listened to the soft noises Sam would make in the dark, in his dreams, and Dean would jerk himself off too many nights to remember while his brother rustled in the next bed. He would stroke himself and imagine how Sam would sound if Dean joined him, fondled him to wakefulness and then took Sam in his mouth, sucked him to ecstasy until he erupted with orgasm.

**#**

**The second night (continued)**

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It's like a disease that Dean's never been able to recover from. It's in his heart, in his mind, and in his stupid dick that doesn't know any better, doesn't know it should be ashamed of itself for the dirty thoughts, the awful lust that's always, _al__ways_ with him.

The eternal guilt he's felt is what made hell so deserving. It was the righteous end to his sick thoughts and the torture was justifiable, encouraged, even craved…to have the disease beaten out of him and driven away, replaced by ravaging pain and agony, to not have to think anymore about how much he wants to fuck his baby brother.

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**The first day**

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By the time they arrive at Lake Meacham in upstate New York, it's noon on the Friday just before Memorial Day weekend and there's a long line of cars waiting to check into campsites for the weekend.

Dean inches the car forward, bitching at the long stretch of time they've been sitting there and worrying about the Impala overheating. He shuts off the engine with each stop and shucks off his leather jacket in the midday heat. He doesn't know why they're having to do this, they can just sneak in after hours and find somewhere to crash but Sam is adamant about getting a campsite for the weekend, has even gone so far as to get them a tent and sleeping bags.

Giving him a bewildered look, Dean mutters, "We're here on a hunt, dude. What's with the Daniel Boone all of a sudden?"

Sam shrugs, "We might as well be comfortable, Dean. We can't really stay in a motel while we're hunting for a ghost on a lake and all the cabins have been rented. I'm sick of sleeping in the car so I thought we'd rough it a little, try camping out, maybe even do a little barbequing? I brought food…"

Dean immediately perks up and he grins, "What'd you bring?"

"Hotdogs and hamburgers, some steak, buns, chips, soda, beer…"

Dean waits with bated breath.

"Oh and some fresh-baked apple pie from the restaurant at the motel last night."

"Yes! Knew I could count on you, Sammy! You're alright, you know that?"

Sam laughs, shaking his head at his brother, "I knew that'd make you happy."

Soon, they're pulling up to the entrance and Dean's forking over the money for a four-day stay, handing Sam over the map and getting directions to their site.

"Thank you!" Sam yells back as they drive away. They find the campsite without trouble, pulling in next to the permanent barbeque grill and picnic table. There's a fire pit that's been used often and a buzzing of mosquitoes and cicadas the only music once the Impala's engine is shut off.

The smell of pine is heavy in the air, the campsite is surrounded by the tall trees and the sun is beating down, hot and bright. Both men strip down to t-shirts and while Dean busies himself unpacking the coolers, Sam works at setting up the two-person dome tent.

Dean calls over, "We're going to need to get more ice in this heat, to keep everything cold."

Sam unrolls the sleeping bags, replying, "There was a convenience store on the map that has ice. We can just make some runs. We're going to need some wood for a fire, too."

"Well, we got woods all around us. Let's go."

For the next half hour, they gather branches and twigs, stacking up a small pile next to the fire pit. Dean smacks at his neck and says, "This isn't gonna be enough wood but we can probably get more from the store when we get the ice. Hopefully, the smoke from the fire will keep away the damn mosquitoes."

"Here." Sam hands him some bug repellent with sunscreen, "Take off your shirt."

And Dean pulls it over his head, dropping it onto the ground and squirting some of the lotion into his hand. He starts to rub it on his skin and stops, inhaling deep, the thick, pleasant scent of coconut filling his head.

"Huh." He grunts, "Smells good." And then he tenses as he feels Sam's hands touch him, rubbing lotion on his back and neck, the warmth from those big palms making him bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from turning around and pressing his body into Sam's.

Sam's working in the lotion good, making sure to cover every part of Dean's skin because mosquitoes crave Dean's smell, bypassing other people for a taste of his flesh and Dean's pretty sure Sam doesn't want him itching (and bitching) all night long.

"Make sure you put it under your waistband. You know how they like to chew on that part of you."

"Yup." Dean mutters, taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart and moving away from Sam's touch with relief, unbuttoning his pants and rubbing where Sam said. He looks down at the lotion, huffing in one more pull of air for courage before saying, "Let me get you."

Sam strips off his shirt and Dean's mouth goes bone-dry, his brain shutting down for precious seconds, tunnel vision blacking out everything but Sam's skin, Sam's freaking beautiful back muscles and Dean can't even find a breath to take in anymore.

His words stutter and fall, a choking sound coughing up into the air and Sam turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised, the unspoken "You ok?" passing between them.

Dean's eyes skitter away and he nods quick, reaching in fast before he changes his mind, to massage in a generous dollop of lotion onto the broad shoulders, working his fingers up under Sam's shaggy hair and around his ears. He's ignoring the throb of pulse in his hands, the heat in Sam's skin, and his brother's incredible _smell_, denying and resisting with every fiber of his being.

Just a few more seconds now and he'll be done and then maybe he'll be able to breathe again. Dean caresses Sam's lower back and ribs gently, rubbing the lotion in deep, trying to ignore his growing erection pressing up against his jeans, wondering how the fuck he's going to hide it when he hears someone clear their throat.

They turn (_Ok, Dean keeps his crotch facing the other direction_) and see a girl standing near the Impala, long brown hair cascading over slim white shoulders, wearing nothing but a bathing suit and sandals, her slender body and long legs making both boys stand up and pay attention. She's wearing sunglasses, covering her expression but there's no mistaking the knowing smile playing on her lips.

Sam blushes, because he's half naked, skin glistening with lotion and steps forward, "Hey. You need help?"

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting…" She says pointedly and Dean feels a flush creep into his own cheeks.

"No! You're not! Really, you're…uh…not. It's…bug stuff and we're…uh…brothers…" Dean's stuttering out the words, hiding his hard-on and the girl's smile widens.

"Brothers, huh? Man, your parents must have been gorgeous. Well, I just stopped by to invite you to a party later. We're pretty much inviting the whole lake. We're getting some kegs and having a barbecue. Campsite 22 around sundown. Bring munchies." And the girl waves to them and walks away.

Dean hurriedly pulls on his shirt and pushes at Sam's back angrily, "Get dressed, jerk, before someone else thinks we're gay."

#

Sam pulls out two folding chairs and puts them in front of the fire pit, putting the beer cooler between them and looks around, making sure they've got everything they need. He glances at his brother, "Wanna go see the lake?"

Dean gives him a grin, "This is supposed to be happening weekend for teenagers so I bet there's gonna be some sweet young things down on the beach…"

"Jailbait, dude."

Dean slides on shades "Hey, we can look, right? Even if we can't touch."

"Looking's allowed." Sam agrees and goes to get the map.

"Think I should wear my jacket? I look cool in my jacket…"

"Dean, it's fricking ninety-five degrees, you're gonna pass out from heat stroke if you wear that. You'll just have to be cool without it."

"Not a problem, Sam."

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As they walk on the road, they're unprepared for the comradery that greets them, other campers hailing them as they walk by, waving, inviting them to 'sit a spell' and have a beer.

The steamy pavement of the tarmac fairly sizzles with the heat of the sun and the air is shimmering over it, reflecting the blaze of the day back up into their faces and they're working up a dripping sweat as they walk. Dean takes to cursing the heat as cars pass by, waving and honking, cursing, that is, until one car slows down and offers them a six-pack to cool off with.

Dean, a dopey grin on his face, takes it with bright eyes and a willing hand, telling Sam after, "Dude, I love New York! I have to get me one of those t-shirts…"

"You do and I will leave your ass here." Sam dead-pans.

"These people are way friendly, man."

"Most of them are already drunk, Dean or will be soon enough. That's why they're so chatty."

They round a corner and the lake spreads out before them, mountains on every side, a lazy wind making small ripples in the water and the sun reflects it back like glittering diamonds, so bright it hurts to look at it. The delicious smell of charcoal mixed with tanning oil waft towards them, coconut, Coppertone and baby oil, hamburgers and burnt marshmallows swirl together, heavy in the summer's air.

"This is beautiful!" Sam breathes in deep, a stupid grin on his face.

Dean tries to think of a snappy put-down to wipe away the smile off Sam's mug but can't quite manage it, staring in awe at the postcard scene before him, eyes roaming over the mountains, the lone canoe drifting peacefully near the middle of the water and can only mutter in agreement, "Yup."

"We did a good thing coming here, Dean." Sam turns his head, giving him one-hundred watt dimples and teeth and Dean's lost in the beautiful face of his brother, staring into him with a longing that he can't even begin to deal with. He almost sobs with an overwhelming urge to kiss those dimples, wanting to lick a trail from one cheek to the hollow in Sam's throat and pull whimpers out of his brother like sighs on the wind.

He wants to be the only one to make Sam whimper.

He pulls in a deep chestful of air, feeling the calm of the lake soothe him, the ache in his heart lessening and he nods, thinking maybe things can be worked out, maybe things can be better. A sense of peace fills him and he's quiet, at rest because he's just made the biggest decision of his life, just now and it's the only thing he _can_ do. He's going to tell Sam how he feels.

It's time.

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This fic was beta'd twice by **isaacsapphire** and then I went and change the silly thing yet again so if you spot any mistakes, I own them all. Isaac, thank you, thank you for all of your suggestions and all of your help. You are totally awesome and wonderful!

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**The first afternoon**

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Dean's eyes light up in approval at the tanned and lean bodies sprawled out in all directions baking in the sun. He looks over at Sam and realizes his brother is already basking in the attention of some nubile girls who nudge each other, giggling behind their hands when he gives them his killer dimples.

Huh.

Dean's heart thumps uncomfortably. He wishes Sam would look at _him_ like that.

He tries to shake the feeling, tries to concentrate, because this is serious business and he has to focus, _damn it._ Focus on the facts, on finding the big bad and offing it, keep his mind on that and away from his brother's big brown eyes, rock-hard muscles and his fucking _smell_, the thick and heady scent making him dizzy, threatening to end Dean's sanity right there.

_Focus_, you idiot!

Soon enough, they've gotten a group of girls chatting about the hunt that's brought them here. They look so much alike that in his mind, Dean sorts them by bathing suit color.

Five disappearances so far in as many years, all from this lake and they all happen before Memorial weekend. This last girl was a fifteen year old who'd been assigned to clean the showers and she'd been gone only a few minutes when the other employees heard a horrible screaming and rushed to help. When they'd reached the showers, they'd slid through a pool of blood into the steamy room, hot water blasting out of every nozzle but the girl was nowhere to be found. The police had no leads but were still questioning family and friends while the media was sensationalizing the "Lake Ghost Murderer".

Puzzled, Dean asks the teens, "Who says it's a ghost? Maybe it's an ex-boyfriend or stalker or something…someone that wanted her dead. Hell, maybe she beat someone out of being head cheerleader and they wanted revenge…"

Pink Bikini explains, "They say someone survived once and _they _said they saw a ghost with a knife that kept trying to stab them but the person got away. That was the only summer no one disappeared. It was like the ghost could only try once or something." She shrugs in confusion.

Blue Bra with Boy Shorts interjects, "When this girl disappeared, we knew we were safe until next summer. That's why we're all here, otherwise, it'd be deserted until-"She doesn't finish but the implication is clear, _until someone died_.

Sam asks curiously, "Well, if there's only one a year, why do you all have to stick together when you go take showers now?"

They all exchange looks and Red Tankini shrugs before replying, "Because maybe this will be the one year where two girls are taken."

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Sam turns his head towards Dean, talking in undertones, "I need to find internet access to research this but first let's go check out the shower where she was found."

Sam's breath on his face is warm and sweet-smelling and all Dean would have to do is turn his head a little and their lips would be touching.

Ok, this shit needs to stop!

Dean grits his teeth, feeling the nervous tic in his cheek start dancing and he shoves away the erotic thoughts his brain is sending to his lower region, replying, "You go do that. I'll track down some staff and ask if they've heard any local legends about a girl getting killed in the shower at one of these lakes. I'll find out if there's a library nearby, too."

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"Nothing special in the showers, Dean, blood stains were washed away and nothing else in there."

"Ok. The library's closed for the holiday weekend, Sam, but there's a ranger station with internet access on the campgrounds. I found out something, too. Seems there was a girl raped and killed by some drunks at Ausable Chasm Lake about five years ago, just before the disappearances started. Authorities found her in the shower dead. She'd bled out from internal injuries. The drunks were caught but ended up not being convicted because the bum fuck cops around here put the suspects in the same room together before they were questioned. They got off on a technicality."

Sam whistles through his teeth, "Shit! Sure sounds like the makings of a pissed off ghost. Did you get a name?"

"Laurie…Laurie Campbell. She was sixteen."

"Let's head over to the ranger station. You get directions?"

Dean holds up a hand drawn map, "Even better."

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"Dean, according to the police report, four men were charged in the case when an eye-witness placed them in the bar where Laurie had gone to use the phone. The owner, one Harriet Stowe, let her in because it was the only phone in a five mile radius. She said the men harassed Laurie from the minute she walked in until she left and they took off right after. Mrs. Stowe called the cops but by the time they found the girl, it was too late. She testified against them but they were released anyway. Shortly after that, her bar was burned to the ground because of 'faulty electrical wiring'."

"Nice."

"Right? But here's the kicker. All four of those men are dead now and they all died unusually horrific deaths…let's see, one was crushed when his cement truck started dumping out its contents all over him…another was beheaded while snowmobiling in a field that had no barb-wire fences so no one knows what cut his head off. Third one had his throat ripped out by wild dogs – dogs that were never found, by the way – and the fourth one was crushed to death when an elevator cable broke and he plunged down 20 floors."

Dean makes a face, "Ouch. Ok, so our girl got her revenge, right? So why keep killing people? I mean, what's she still hanging around for?"

Sam shrugs, "I guess when we find that out, we'll be able to stop her. We need to find the bar owner tomorrow and ask her a few questions. I got an address but the ranger told me we should wait so he can call her and tell her we're coming. Can't do much more tonight, I guess. May as well stop by Camp 22 and have a few beers, huh?"

Sam gives him a grin, eyes laughing down at him and Dean feels his knees go weak at the sight, breath hitching in his chest and he's hanging by a frayed thread, staring up into Sam's handsome face, feeling like he's gonna snap in two any minute now. Instead, he firms his jaw, reaching out to clap a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to make this normal, natural.

"Oh, Sammy…you read my mind."

#

They make a quick stop at the Meacham Mini-Mart to buy ice, beer and wood. Sam finds a stash of Johnny Walker in the back of the store and tries to catch Dean's eye, holding up a bottle for his approval but Dean's deep in thought, staring into space, worrying about when he's gonna tell Sam, _if_ he's gonna tell Sam and what the hell he's even gonna say when he's knee-deep in his confession.

"Dean!" Sam calls softly and Dean's eyes land on his, notice what he's holding and gives a nod, holding up two fingers. Sam grabs another bottle and walks to the counter. Dean glances sideways with narrowed eyes, furtively watching Sam's ass move under his jeans, knowing that if he molded his hands over those tight cheeks, they would fit perfectly into his palms. When Sam turns around with an inquiring look, his breath stops, just stops and he can't get in a good inhale even if he wanted to, the hot need for Sam wrecking him, wiping away what little composure he has. He has to hide it from view until he can get it under control so he grabs the first thing on the shelf in front of him, a mosquito coil. He belatedly adds two more, a citronella candle and a can of Off to their purchases.

"Dude, you're a little obsessive on the whole bug thing."

Dean shrugs nonchalantly, heart thumping at the thought that maybe Sam saw him looking, saw his hot lust before he could mask it, and that fear makes him stutter on his words, "I-I want to keep my blood, Sam. Let the little bastards find someone else to chew on."

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Back at camp, Sam starts up the grill while Dean opens beer for them. The smell of hamburgers and hotdogs cooking has Dean's stomach in overdrive and he's drooling by the time the food's ready. Sam plops a burger down on his bun and Dean doesn't even stop to add ketchup, just scoops it up for a big juicy bite.

"Thish ish delichioush" he mumbles with full mouth.

"You're gonna choke talking with your mouth full like that."

Dean swallows thickly, "At least I'll die happy, Sam."

He starts to take another bite when Sam picks up a hotdog and pops it into his mouth, biting down with closed eyes and a groan of pleasure, chewing and swallowing quick.

_Whoa_, that's like-

The _hottest_ fucking thing he's ever seen. Like steaming, blazing, fire in his pants _hot_. Volcanic eruption _hot_. Melt into a puddle of goo _hot_.

Dean feels the spit dry up in his mouth as Sam's tongue snakes out to give the hot dog a lick before biting down again, strong jaws working hard, chewing, swallowing it down.

Two more bites and the hotdog's gone but the image of Sam eating it is burned into Dean's brain, making him feel stupid and slow, his mouth hanging open, his hand still holding the burger in mid-air.

A clammy sweat breaks out on his forehead and he feels feverish, sluggish, his skin drawing up tight over his bones, and all he can think of is how that mouth, that tongue would feel on him, rolling over his dick like it did to that hotdog and _oh, shit_, he'd better shake this off before Sam looks over at him and sees-

Dean mechanically moves his hand to his mouth, taking a bite of the burger, but now it's like chewing cardboard, dry and tasteless on his tongue. He chews automatically, careful not to look at Sam's face but watching his hands instead as he turns the meat on the grill.

Graceful and gentle, the fingers are impossibly long and the palms are huge, able to make him feel safe and loved when those hands are resting on his shoulder or slapping him on the back.

God, he loves those hands.

Unaware, he gives a deep sigh, pulled up from his gut and takes another bite of food, uninterested but needing to stop his racing thoughts, needing to fill himself with _norm__al__._

"You ok?" Sam's voice reaches his ears.

He glances up at Sam and away, scared to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds, scared he'll be bare and raw and Sam will see his heart in his eyes and that would be bad, very bad because he needs to pick just the perfect moment before he tells Sam.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm good." He lies through his teeth because he knows he'll never be good again, not till he's gets this freaking weight off his shoulders.

"You want a hot dog?" Sam asks.

And Dean stands up, turns away and chokes out the only words his brain has to offer, "Holy _Shit_, Sam."

And he goes to sit in the car leaving Sam staring after him in confusion.

#

Sam wants to wash up before going to the party so they grab swimsuits and soap, making their way back to the beach, bypassing the showers with unspoken agreement.

The setting sun draws long shadows across the sand, cooler air creeping in, kicking up a breeze that crosses the lake. An owl calls out a lonely wail, bats fly past and the peepers sing to one another through the trees.

Sam hands Dean his newly filled scotch flask, watching his brother take a deep swig before he drinks from his own bottle. Only one couple remains on the beach and they're making out hot and heavy, hands running over each other as they roll around on the sand together.

Dean watches with unabashed interest, tipping back the flask a few too many times as they kiss and moan into each other.

Sam glances over at the couple and then back at Dean before mumbling under his breath, "Dude, stop staring at them."

Dean smirks at him, "It's kinda hot, Sam. Live porn…"

"It's sick, man. Stop it."

Dean sighs, turns away and then slants a calculating look back at Sam, like he's made a decision and damn the consequences. He starts shucking off clothes quickly, stopping only when he's buck naked.

Sam's mouth falls open as he grabs a shirt to cover his bare-ass brother, "What the fuck, Dean?"

"They aren't paying attention, Sam. Where are my trunks?"

Sam manages to find them without releasing his grip on the shirt he's holding, "Well, I _am_ paying attention and I don't need to see your dick, dude."

Dean chuckles "Aww…come on…I see you looking. You're impressed, aren't you?"

"Impressed with your stupidity, maybe. Get in the water or get your swimsuit on, Dean. One or the other, cause I'm dropping the shirt in thirty seconds."

#

Dean pulls on his trunks and Sam throws the shirt down forcefully, squashing a crazy need to stomp it into the sand, an unreasonable surge of anger at his brother coursing through him. What the hell? It's only Dean being Dean and Sam should know better than to let it get to him. _Holy shit_, his heart is pounding, though. He wasn't ready to see Dean all naked like that. And boy, did he see…

Dean was right about one thing. Even half-hard, what Sam had seen of Dean was very impressive and yes, he _had_ looked, damn it!

But, then he'd been looking for quite a few years now, anyway. It was why he'd gone back on the road with Dean again when he was at Stanford, when his brother had shown up asking for his help in finding Dad.

It was also one of the reasons he'd left for school in the first place.

#

**Five Years Ago **

#

That night, when Dean had come for him and they'd wrestled each other, it had all come back and hit him hard, like being slammed into a wall at a hundred miles an hour. He'd looked up at Dean, who was straddling him, cock pressed up against Sam's belly, smiling down into his face and felt something snap, like a twisting deep in his gut and he was lost again.

He'd known, right at that second, just how stupid and freaking _futile_ leaving had been because the wanting, the desire for Dean had never gone away. It had only been buried in his subconscious and now, there it was again, ballooning out of control, the fragile hope, the helpless love, the awful consuming need for Dean that he'd fought against most of his life. When it had turned from brother-love to passionate hunger, he didn't know, didn't care really, because suddenly, one day, he was shit-deep in it, no denying it any more and he'd been lusting after Dean ever since.

And he'd been hiding from himself ever since.

#

**Late afternoon, first day **

#

He looks around and the couple is gone, leaving only an imprint in the sand where they'd been. _Great_, he thinks, _probably went to report us for lewd behavior_.

Disgusted, Sam goes into the pine trees to change, looking around to make sure he's alone before stripping down. He's got a hard-on now, thanks to his stupid brother and mentally curses at the image of naked Dean still in his head.

_Christ, could he be any more stunning with his kissable lips and gorgeous green eyes and those freckles?_

He struggles into his suit, pushing down on his erection and hopes he can get in the water before Dean sees it. He peeks out, breathing a sigh of relief because Dean's already in the water, diving and swimming, so he won't notice Sam so much.

He grabs the soap on his way down to the water and wades in quick, feeling the bottom…velvety soft, not mucky like he expected…it doesn't give under his weight but holds him, caressing his feet like a mossy sponge. The water is cool on his hot skin and he stretches, enjoying the feel of it before striking out into a dive, kicking his feet and staying under until his lungs want to burst. He comes up with a gasp, shaking back his hair and treading water.

"This is nice!" Dean calls out, "Throw me some soap."

He catches it gracefully when Sam tosses it over and lathers up, scrubbing himself roughly before he dives under to rinse, coming up near Sam and shaking his head, splashing Sam in the eyes.

"Dean, are you ever gonna grow up?" Sam says in a tired voice.

Dean laughs, "Never!"

He throws the soap back at Sam before flipping over on his back and floating, "This is awesome!"

Sam quickly washes and swims for a while before sighing deeply, treading water near Dean and repeating what he said before, "We did a good thing coming here, Dean."

His brother's eyes are closed, a small smile playing on his lips and his face is the most relaxed Sam's ever seen it, "Yeah, Sammy. We sure did."

#

Ok, what the _hell_ did he just do?

Dean doesn't know what on earth just possessed him to strip down naked in front of his brother but the look on Sam's face was worth the price of admission. First surprise, followed by sheer panic and then, just when Dean was ready to kick himself in the ass, calling himself six kinds of a fool, he'd seen it.

Sam's eyes had roamed over his naked body, over his dick and flicked away, snapping back up to his face for just a second and there it was, a hot, hungry look, molten lava glittering at him, just a flash of quicksilver, hidden as fast as Sam could manage.

There's no time to turn it upside down and examine every nuance of the look so Dean relies on gut instinct, a cautious hope spreading over him, bringing with it a shaky courage that lessens the weight on his shoulders and makes him breathe easier.

Maybe tonight, after the party, he'll tell Sam how he feels. He just needs to pick the right moment.

#

**The first night**

#

The night comes quietly with the setting of the sun. Orange and red wash the clouds, the sun dropping out of sight within minutes and the moon peeks out over the lake, slashing a glittering reflection where the water washes up onto the beach.

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

The lake and the campground change with the coming of the moon.

There's an excitement that isn't there in the lazy heat of day, a twitching of flesh, nerves alive with anticipation, energy real and raw that takes over even the meekest people and fills them with bubbly hope.

There is no make-up, no hair gel or fine attire to hide behind here. There is only the natural beauty that comes of washing in fresh water with soap that floats nearby, the sun kissed skin that hides every blemish, the grit of sand in the clothes and the tangled hair combed with fingers.

Here, in the light of the moon and the campfire, everyone is beautiful.

The party's kicking and shaking by the time Sam and Dean get there. An hour later with lots of shots and beer chasers imbibed, Dean's lost track of Sam in the crowd, swaying on his feet, feeling no pain and enjoying the undivided attention of three beautiful young ladies.

He's too drunk to tell Sam which side of the tent he wants to sleep on tonight, much less come clean about how much he's lusting after him. He's gonna have to wait but he's so fucking horny right now, after spending all day with his hot, gorgeous brother that he's gonna either have to get laid or jerk it off because he can't even think until his dick's taken care of.

Dean focuses on the girls in front of him, trying to calculate which of them is even _close_ to legal age so maybe he can get some action for little Dean-o when he hears the music start, loud and thumping and the people around the campfire are whooping and clapping their hands to the beat.

#

He sees bodies moving past the fire and it takes his addled brain a moment to register that one of the figures is Sam, wearing only a pair of jeans and his boots, dancing with a girl to the beat of the song and the cheering of the fireside crowd. Their hips are grinding down on each other, Sam's hands are holding her ass tight against his crotch and he bends to kiss her, hips keeping time to the music, rolling into hers erotically and she's kissing him back in a drunken passion.

Dean watches Sam, mouth hanging open, at first glad that Sam's having a good time and is probably gonna get laid tonight (_so much for his comfy sleeping bag_) and then, when they break the kiss and just start dancing, watching Sam move his body to the music.

He's never seen Sam dance before, which is probably a real good thing because he suddenly forgets the three beauties standing in front of him, suddenly forgets the hunt that brought them here, and the rest of the world just falls away as he stares at his brother with a pounding heart, licking his tongue over dry lips, desire pulsing out of him in waves.

_Jesus, would you just look at him…_

The blood roars in his head so loud that it drowns out all sound, dead quiet now and all he can see is Sam. His pulse is drumming through his body and he can't seem to draw in a good gulp of air, the night pressing in on him, making taking in a breath (and thinking) damn near impossible.

Dean doesn't even realize he's moving until he's standing in front of Sam, his face flushed with passion, green eyes moving hotly over his brother's body as Sam bucks and rocks his hips, laughing down into the face of the girl he's dancing with.

Dean watches his brother stiffen suddenly, his back going ramrod straight and he turns, eyes locking onto Dean's, the air between them heavy and pulsing.

Dean can't get his damn walls up fast enough, too much liquor and too much Sam, it happens too quick and he's wide open and raw now, the hunger for Sam in the heat of his gaze, in the lower lip caught between his teeth and in the throbbing pulse fluttering wildly at the base of his throat.

Dean leans forward, listing towards his brother without conscious thought. The ache for Sam's body, for that sweet bare chest to slide up against him, all hot and sweaty, takes him over and consumes him, eating him alive from the inside out and he's shaking with the need of it.

_Holy shit, he's beautiful._

Sam takes one step towards him and then another, lips forming his name but Dean can't hear anything over the blood pounding in his head. They stare into each other for a moment more and suddenly, he's jerked forward, dragged away from the fire and the crowd, Sam yanking him along behind like a cowed puppy and Dean can't do anything but trail after blindly, all the fight gone out of him. He's stumbling over downed trees and twisted roots, pulled by his brother's strong hand, following Sam deeper into the woods, going wherever Sam leads.

His stupid heart won't let him do anything else.

#


	3. Chapter 3

#

Dean's feet get tangled up and he trips, falling forward over a low tree stump, stopped just shy of hitting the ground by strong hands catching his shoulders, gripping him firmly. He's pulled up tight against a hard chest, the smell of soap, fire and Sam assaulting his senses, swirling around in his head and he breathes in deep, the scent flicking a hot burst of desire through him.

Dean stares up at his brother in the dark but Sam's face is shadowed and still as he crushes Dean in close, knocking the breath out of him and the only sound he can hear is Sam's harsh panting and his own painful gasps.

"S-Sam?" he whispers up at the figure looming above him, "What're you-?"

And Dean's swung around suddenly, the alcohol making the arc a dizzying slide and he's stumbling backwards, feet barely touching the ground, head still swooning, not yet caught up to his body and his back slams into something hard and unyielding. The smell of pine sap surrounds him, cloying and heavy, and he shakes his head, trying to make the world stop spinning, trying to clear the double vision.

Hot hands on Dean's face are scorching his skin, the fingers tracing a line down to his jaw, tilting up his chin gently and then the grip tightens, his face held firm, vice-like and he clutches at the arms attached to those hands, trying to loosen the hold on his head, trying to pull off those scalding hands.

Dean catches a quick glimpse of Sam's eyes, dark shining coals of fire, just before a hot, wet mouth descends heavy and possessive on his, laying claim to him, taking his lips with a blistering kiss.

Electricity, all jagged edges and sharp points, shoots into his brain, into his gut and he's jolted, tingling _everywhere_, all over his body, like he just touched his tongue to a live wire because _sweet Christ-_

Sam is _kissing_ him! Not just kissing him but _sizzling hot_ kissing him, sliding his tongue in between Dean's lips, finding Dean's tongue and curling in, until Dean is trembling helplessly with passion, with need, against Sam's hard body. He's pinned tight between Sam and a tree, his brother's bare chest holding him there, burning his skin through his t-shirt. There's a hard thigh pressed between his legs, pushing up into Dean's dick and Sam's sucking down on Dean's mouth, _owning_ him, finding every taste, every breath and licking it out of him, making Dean moan and open up wider, letting his brother take what he wants and offering more.

Dean can feel Sam's hardness against his own, grinding up into him, so big, so freaking _solid _as he pushes in, locking his hips into place, connecting and rubbing, rocking Dean upward. His answering erection is swift and pulsing, pushing up against his jeans painfully, aching to break free of the denim as a wave of lust, huge and steaming, rises up in Dean's belly, consuming him, stoking the flickering blaze until there's nothing else, no one else in the world except Sam and right _here_, right _now_.

He breaks away, gasping for air, struggling to resist, the denial so ingrained in him it's like second nature and his brain can't comprehend that it's _Sam_ here, in front of him, kissing the life out of him, holding him fierce, so tight he can't escape and bringing him to the edge of his sanity where there's no control, no safety net and he can only cling desperately to the strong arms surrounding him.

He's the oldest, he's the one that makes decisions and it's his job to take care of Sammy, even if it's not what Sam wants and right now, Sam's making a mistake and it's Dean's responsibility to stop this thing now.

What the fuck? Dean's dreamt about this for years but in his dreams, Sam was always unwilling, refusing him, most often punching him and leaving in a huff. That's Dean's comfort zone and that's what's supposed to be happening here.

Nowhere in his fantasies did Sam ever kiss Dean until he's drowning in lust and not caring if he ever comes up for air. Nowhere did Sam ever capture him or fuck up against him like he was doing right now, dry humping the life out of him.

Nope, Sam wasn't supposed to be here, not like this and Dean's not in control of this anymore, Sam is in control, he's leading the dance and sucking away every ounce of Dean's willpower with his sweet lips and erotic tongue.

This is _wrong, _all wrong,and even in his current state of drunkenness; Dean knows it in his heart and in his gut that it's _fucking _wrong to want your brother like this and the fact that Sam wants this just as much as he does makes it _worse_ somehow.

This needs to stop now, right now.

He opens his mouth to tell Sam to get the fuck off him but Sam swoops back in, nudging against Dean's lips, slicking his tongue across Dean's mouth softly, asking for permission this time, retreating just enough to be able to see Dean's face, pleading with his big eyes for more.

Aw, _shit_, those eyes, and that damn sweet mouth. How in _Christ_ is he supposed to find the strength to resist those eyes?

Sam waits, breathing into the space between them, his lips so close to Dean's they're almost touching, his thumbs massaging his brother's jaw line gently.

As Dean stares up into those beautiful eyes, his resistance falls away and he's lost, just lost, in the smell and taste of Sam, and _God_, he wants-

He wants Sam so _fucking bad._

He exhales a defeated sob, giving up, giving in, moving his hands to Sam's waist and running his fingers up over the delicious skin, tentative, scared, touching gently over ribs and chest, the skin so soft to the touch that his mouth is _watering_, for Christ's sake. Before he knows it, he's caressing Sam's face with his rough palms, sliding his fingers up into that beautiful head of hair and then conscious thought is pushed aside, the need for Sam rearing up fierce and primal, too hungry to care anymore about decency or right and wrong-

And Dean's clenching his hands in Sam's hair, yanking Sam's head down, crashing their mouths together, lips colliding with teeth and he's shoving Sam's lips apart, thrusting in his tongue, wild and greedy, and busting on through. Sam meets him there, eagerly opening for him, and they're drinking each other down, breathing into each other until they're dizzy, panting and holding on for dear life.

Sam's hands are pulling on his shirt, twisting it up and off his body and now they're skin to skin, Sam's mouth sucking and kissing along the length of his throat and Dean feels a nipping over his Adam's apple, a wet trail sliding down to the pulse in his throat where the hot tongue licks and hums against it.

Sam mumbles against his throat, "God, Dean, I need…shit, so fucking hot."

And he's back up at Dean's mouth, pushing him open and thrusting in his tongue, urgent, almost frantic, plunging in deep, searching, trying to find Dean's soul in there, not taking no for an answer and Dean lets himself go, gives himself up to Sam's will, lays himself bare for his brother to see.

With a sigh, Sam takes it all, making noises in his throat like he's never tasted anything so delicious and pulls back, eyes shining with regret, and then he's back, dipping his tongue into Dean's mouth for one more savor, quick and tantalizing. He gives Dean an impish smile, gazing down at him in the dark, eyes glittering in the moonlight, full of love, full of _Dean-_

Dean feels the flames in his belly, hot and licking, tormenting him and making him weak in the knees, making his dick even harder if that's possible and he bucks up against Sam's hips, rocking into him and Sam moans low in his throat at the movement. Sam's hands slide down and around, cupping Dean's ass and lifting, and Dean is leveraged back against the tree and Sam is holding him _up_, for Christ's sake, positioning him so Sam can buck his dick up against him better and now they're cock on cock, rough denim rubbing in between and _holy shit_! This is about the hottest thing that's ever happened to him in his fucking life!

Dean breaks the kiss, gasping for breath into the stale air between them and Sam's eyes are hot on his, the grin now turned slow and sexy, Sam licking his lips seductively and Dean swoons at that, glad Sam's holding him up cause he's fast becoming a shivering lump of desire, pulsing and throbbing with yearning.

He leans forward, sliding his lips feather light over Sam's before kissing his way along Sam's cheek, finding the very dimple that teased him earlier and licking into it, delighting in the taste of Sam's skin. It's even better than he thought, it's fire and ice, salt and sweet all rolled into one delectable blend, mouth-watering and luscious and he laps down his brother's throat, moaning at the flavor, the honeyed tang, musky and delicious, filling his senses and making coherent thought impossible.

God, his dick can't take much more of this. _Dean_ can't take much more of this.

Dean reaches up, grabbing branches overhead to hold himself and wraps his thighs around Sam's hips, moaning as Sam settles him more firmly in, pitching against his crotch and Dean's riding him now, that big, hard dick rubbing up on his own, smacking into him fast and steady and Dean's trying to slow it down because he wants this to last, wants it to go on forever but he's getting close and he just needs to breathe-

He tries to lessen his movements, to stop his upward arc to orgasm but _Jesus_, the way Sam is moving into him, wiggling and circling his hips like he's dancing with _him_ now, pelvis jutting up and pulling back, and Dean can feel the friction buzzing around him, making him climb higher and higher, the heat streaking through his abdomen and legs.

His arms are shaking above his head, the branches he's hanging onto dropping pine needles over them, picking into their skin as they hit, little jags of pain that add to his pleasure, add to his memories and he'll never look at pine trees the same again.

Dean's breath catches in his chest, gasping out ragged puffs of air and judging from Sam's moans, he's in about the same place as Dean, panting and wheezing with exertion, with passion and Dean goes higher still, hips jutting in faster now, feeling the waves building up as he hooks his feet around Sam's ass and pulls him tight.

Sam's trembling now, too, Dean can feel it all over him as his brother chafes against him, snapping his hips in faster and Dean's hovering on the ledge now, waves tossing him higher and higher, his arms clenched and locked, muscles bunched with tension and he's teetering-

One more hip jerk in, one more rub up against his brother and the fire in Dean's dick spreads out and explodes and, with a bark of pleasure, he's crashing over the side, falling into the ocean, riding each crest as he shoots his load all over the inside of his pants, moaning and quivering with each jolt of orgasm. He falls back against the tree, sweating and panting, barely able to keep hold of the branches above him. Shit, he's never come so hard in his whole life!

Sam's still moving against him, muttering so low Dean can barely hear, "So fucking hot…so goddamn gorgeous" and Dean can feel the arms trembling beneath his ass as Sam struggles to hold him up. Sam's bucking his hips harder now, faster and Dean lets one of his arms drop to run his hand over that beautiful back and ribs, moving forward to thumb over Sam's nipples and that does it-

Sam's back goes rigid, taut, muscles bunched up for a second as he smacks into Dean's hips again and Dean sees it happen, sees the spasms racking through him, watches Sam's face in the dark as orgasm hits and he explodes, the pleasure-pain grimace, the small cry of release and he's huffing out each spurt, rolling his hips forward with each jolt of delight until he's spent and he collapses against Dean, burying his face in Dean's soft neck, pulling in huge gulps of air as he recovers.

They stay like that for a few moments, quiet before the storm and Sam sighs deep, arms still trembling and finally, Dean unhooks his legs and Sam lets him down, both holding onto each other, keeping each other upright until shaking knees get strength back and breathing returns to normal.

They pull back, eyes locking with the other's gaze and Dean is so scared now, not wanting this to end, not wanting the real world to come crashing back in and he sees that Sam is struggling, too.

The glint of tears shines in Sam's eyes and he reaches forward with a hand, stroking up Dean's arm, drawing aimless circles with his thumb on the warm skin until Dean puts his hand up to still Sam's movement, feeling the nervous twitch in his brother's flesh at his touch, the pulse in his wrist pounding in awareness, in fear.

Sam's words, when he can manage them, have tears stinging in Dean's eyes, even as Dean nods in painful agreement.

"Holy shit, Dean, we are so screwed."

#

Sam can't even look at him.

Last night, they'd held each other in the woods, standing and hugging for what seemed like forever before they'd staggered over the moss and twigs, bypassing the party still going on, and headed back to their camp, collapsing in the tent wrapped up in each other's arms.

This morning, Sam had opened his eyes, taken one look at Dean and jumped away like a bee bit his ass, scooting out of the tent in a hurry and leaving Dean alone, heart pounding painfully in his chest, the panic in his gut rising up in slow waves and it's his worst possible scenario come to life, bright and hard and hurtful.

Sam's been skittish as a colt ever since, being careful not to touch, not to look and especially not to meet Dean's eyes.

Sam takes the car and comes back a short time later with ice, coffee and donuts. His eyes skitter over Dean's face and then away as he hands over breakfast, dropping his fingers fast like he'll be burned if he touches Dean's skin, and stalks away, back held rigid and tight, to sit down on one of the folding chairs , staring into the empty fire pit, facing away from Dean.

"Sam." Dean's voice is rusty and croaking, hesitant, trying not to scare Sam off.

"Yeah?" Sam doesn't turn, speaking to the space in front of him.

"We need to…can't we…uh, talk, about this?" Dean's stuttering, stumbling because he's not the caring, sharing brother and this is unfamiliar territory for him.

"No, Dean. We can't. Let's just eat, get cleaned up and go see the bartender like we planned. Let's work the case."

"Sammy-"

"Dean, please. I can't, ok? Not yet."

So Dean buries his pain and shuts up, drinking his bitter coffee and tossing away the donut to the birds because his appetite is gone, ripped away by the memory of Sam's face when he'd woken up and seen just who it was he was cuddling in with, warm and close.

His stomach is burning with last night's hooch and this morning's self-loathing, and he rakes a hand through his hair as he stares unhappily at Sam's back, worrying about his brother, wanting to comfort him but he knows Sam will lash out and they'll both be worse off. Christ, he should have stopped it, should have been stronger, been able to resist but he was fucking weak and this is all his fault and _damn_ his stupid heart anyway.

Shit, he never wanted to make Sam sad.

Dean aches to take it all back, to fix things so Sam will be better and _they_ will be better and Sam will look at him again, touch him again without fear, without disgust.

He doesn't even know where to start to fix this thing between them.

#

They drive in silence, looking everywhere but at each other, only speaking to confirm directions to Mrs. Stowe's place of residence.

The speed with which she opens the door suggests she was watching for them. A capable woman, steely grey hair and work worn hands, she has a hardness about her, surprised at nothing anymore, an attitude that comes from bartending most of her adult life.

Seated at her kitchen table, she confirms the facts they already know, describing the night of Laurie Campbell's murder in vivid detail. The four men had been out deer hunting and had stopped in for a night cap or two before heading back home. Laurie had been out with friends and their car had died so she'd offered to walk back to the bar to use the phone. Mrs. Stowe had allowed it, of course, because it's just being neighborly and it wasn't like the girl was asking for liquor or nothing, she just wanted to call her dad.

Mrs. Stowe, it turns out, was old friends with Laurie's parents, having gone to high school with them and took an almost fiendish pleasure in telling Sam and Dean how they had a hard time coping with Laurie's death, eventually divorcing over it.

Sam tilts his head at her, his eyes curious, "So, did Laurie get hold of her dad when she called him?"

The woman stutters on her answer, "No, actually. She talked with her mom and when she hung up the phone, she seemed pretty upset at something. I didn't see her leave cause I went in the back getting out some more liquor but when I came back out, both her and the hunters were gone. Since they'd been heckling her pretty bad, I had a funny feeling and called the cops. You boys know the rest."

Dean clears his throat, "Well, thank you for your time. If we have any more questions, we'll stop back."

"Anytime" Mrs. Stowe smiles at them serenely, walking them to the door and closing it quietly behind them.

#

They get in the car and sit quiet for a moment, staring up at the house they just came from and Sam looks over at Dean, "She's lying."

Dean nods, "I know."

"Why would she-?"

Dean picks up the sentence, "Leave a young girl alone in a bar with four men who'd been messing with her to go in the back to get more booze?"

"Right. And where was the girl's dad? And why was she so happy Laurie's parents split up?"

Dean starts the car and puts it in drive, "A better question is, where are Laurie's parents now?"

#

Dean eases the Impala into the campsite and cuts the engine, watching Sam paw impatiently at the door handle, _can't get out fast enough_, and Dean's hand shoots out to grab Sam's arm, "Wait, Sammy, please…"

Sam looks down at Dean's hand, "Dean, I told you, I can't. Not yet."

"I just want to tell you that I'm sorry, Sam, so fucking sorry and it won't happen again, ever. I won't let it. Please, Sam, just, don't fucking hate me, ok? You're my brother and we're family. We're all we got."

Sam meets his eyes finally and the sadness in them has Dean biting his lip, clenching his other fist on his lap so he doesn't reach out, pull Sam close and hug him tight. "You think this is your fault?"

"Well…yeah, it's my fault. It's sure not yours."

Sam lashes out suddenly, yelling at him, making Dean jump in surprise, "Why do you always do that, Dean? You take responsibility for everything, man! You don't control the whole fucking world so stop acting like you do!"

"Sam-"

"No, Dean! You think telling me it won't happen again will fix it? Or you being sorry? Well, it doesn't fix a goddamn thing. You have no idea what I'm feeling so don't act like you do!"

Dean's eyes snap green fire back at him, "Well, excuse me for fucking caring! I'm floundering here, trying to make you feel better and you won't fucking talk to me, hell, you won't even look at me so what the fuck, man? What am I supposed to do, Sammy?"

"Just leave me the fuck alone, that's what. Give me the chance to think, to figure out what I'm feeling before you're forcing things, ok? Because I don't know what to say to you! I don't want to say things I might regret so just-"

Sam heaves in a deep pull of air, trying to calm himself down and rubs a shaking palm over his face, "Look, we need to work the case. Let's get something to eat and go find that poor girl's parents. We can worry about us later."

Dean takes back his hand, feeling suddenly and completely alone and he stares straight ahead, breathing deep and then finally nodding, accepting, "Ok, Sam. Ok."

He can't help but worry that 'later' Sam will be gone and he'll be alone.

#


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I've been struggling with this chapter for over a week now and it's being very naughty and difficult so it's time to post it and get it out of my way. I apologize if it's not hot or angsty enough. The next one will have more Wincest in it, I promise :D

#

#

Sam's quaking in his skin, nervous energy zinging through him, making him jumpy and ready to bolt.

It's the sight of Dean's tongue that's stopped his breath, slicing an ache in his chest so painful and tight he feels faint. His skin is hot all over, feverish, his heart is thumping hard against his ribs and all his spit's dried up in his mouth.

Dean's reading. And Dean uses a wet index finger to help him turn pages. Wet from his tongue.

It's a habit of Dean's that's always bugged Sam, always made him grit his teeth so hard they hurt, just thinking about the germs Dean is spreading whenever he touches each page.

But Sam's not thinking about germs now. Nope, right now, all Sam's thinking about is the pink tongue sliding out over those kissable lips, the index finger swiping up against it quick, coming away slick, glistening and that tongue disappearing back inside, like a turtle hiding in its shell, wetting itself for the next stroke.

Seven seconds.

It's how long it takes for Dean to scan the page, quick and impatient like always, before licking his finger and flipping to the next.

His brother's restlessness rolls off onto Sam, stretching his nerves tight, too tight, because he's been watching Dean for the past ten minutes and now Sam feels like he's ready to snap with the tension building up inside him.

Dean is like a caged cat, all grace and power, unable to sit still for any length of time, needing action, needing to punch, kill or shoot something and he's fidgety, showing his agitation in his jerky movements, the anxious roll of shoulder under his shirt and his deep sighs.

Seven seconds.

It's how long it takes Sam to blink, to swallow over the lump in his throat and to have his dick spring to attention, throbbing in his pants at the sight of Dean's tongue. In his head, he counts stupidly, unable to jerk his gaze away as he waits for it.

_(…six, seven) Lick, rustle, turn the page._

Shit! He's getting nothing accomplished and all because his stupid brother has to be so fucking-

So goddamn _there_, all sexy and close, warm and familiar, and smelling so damn _good _that Sam can hardly stand it.

The ranger station is deserted, an abandoned car down the road having caught the authorities attention and it's just Sam and Dean here now, sitting across the table from each other, laptop on the wood between them. Sam's researching the whereabouts of Laurie's mom while Dean's reading a magazine, trying to keep his head down and stay out of Sam's way so he can concentrate on the job at hand.

So much for that idea.

He exhales, exasperated and Dean looks up at him, a hesitant question hovering in his green eyes, eyes that remind Sam of pine trees and firelight and hot kisses in the woods-

His husky voice is almost Sam's undoing, "You ok there, Sammy?"

"Fine." Sam's cheeks feel burned, his throat has a dry patch in it that makes swallowing damn near impossible and his skin is crawling with invisible ants but he's just fine, thank you very much. He jerks his eyes back to the computer screen and types in another search inquiry. He hears the page turn from across the table.

_One, two, three, four, five, six-_

He flicks his eyes at his brother. Tongue licks out, index finger strokes across and paper rattles as the page turns, Sam's dick jumping in time. _Jesus,_ that tongue…

The way it slid into his mouth last night, all warm and wet, like it was supposed to be there, making his insides turn to mush and his knees go weak. Man, Dean was a good kisser! His brother's mouth on his had made Sam wild, feral, like a starving animal, where all he wanted was to push Dean down onto his knees and fuck him senseless, take him rough and raw, sucking and biting, bringing Dean to the brink of orgasm and holding him there until he was a trembling puddle of nerves, begging for release.

Last night, he had wanted to _own_ Dean, to know every inch of him, where he liked to be touched and licked, nipped and kissed…

Sam craved every taste of Dean, every smell, like a deep chasm inside him that would only be filled up if he could have his brother, the one man who meant everything in the world to him, hot and panting underneath him. He wanted to inhale him, consume him and make him beg for more, to have Dean's eyes be filled with love and desire for him, _only _for him and to drive Dean crazy with want, with need for Sam.

He can't go back now, not to where he was before. The silly boy of yesterday, the one who dreamed of loving on his brother, smiled when imagining how good it could be between them and hopeful that maybe someday he could tell Dean how he felt, is gone, in the smoky flames of fire, in the shadows of woods and pine. The half formed images that were in Sam's head yesterday are all gray and hazy, washed out and watered down when compared to the real thing, the living, breathing, sexy hot body he'd held in his arms last night.

Now, he has the taste of Dean in his mouth, the feel of his brother's hot skin lying against his, and the memory of Dean's cock, pressed up hard into him. The sounds Dean had made, _Jesus_, the moaning, the panting, the whimpering were enough to drive any sane man over the brink and make him want to throw Dean down on the ground and-

_Shit,_ there he goes again! Furious with his thoughts, he punches the keyboard with stiff fingers, typing in more information and smacking the keys with a vengeance, moving uncomfortably on the hard seat, trying to adjust his pants over his rock-hard dick that's risen up to say hello.

Blacking out would have been preferable. At least then he wouldn't remember what he'd done. Sam closes his eyes in shame. He'd taken one look at Dean's face in the firelight, with his brother nervously biting his lower lip and love pulsing shamelessly in his eyes and had lost control, lost his mind, yanking Dean away and practically dragging him, frantic to get them alone.

He was so goddamn crazy to taste Dean's mouth that he'd almost broken Dean's back slamming him into that tree. God, Sam hadn't known how close to the edge of breaking he was after all of these years and couldn't believe just how quickly and easily he'd snapped.

He'd dragged Dean away from the party, held him down and kissed the life out of him while Dean struggled to get away. He'd shoved his cock against Dean's, not taking no for an answer, hell, not even hearing if Dean _said_ no because he was so desperate for the feel and the taste of his brother, he couldn't even see straight.

Eventually, Dean had helped, probably even enjoyed it but there was no question that Sam had forced him, had taken Dean against his will and now Sam has to live with that memory.

And now Dean knows.

He knows how Sam feels about him and last night, he'd seen everything that Sam's been denying and hiding from for years. It had spilled out in between them, nasty and desperate and left Sam exposed, wide open and blinking in the bright lights and now, what the fuck is he supposed to do?

Dean had felt him, felt Sam's hard excitement, felt Sam shivering against him and heard the low moans he'd been unable to stop from spilling out of him, his want and need for Dean agony, sharp and stabbing into him, leaving him breathless and yearning for more.

When Sam had woken up the next morning, he couldn't face Dean, scared to see the loathing, the revulsion for him in his brother's green eyes, so he'd run away as fast as he could. He couldn't take it if Dean hated him or worse, was disgusted by him.

He was doing enough hating for both of them, kicking himself in the ass for letting any of it happen, calling himself all kinds of a fool for losing control like he did and now, he feels like a complete dick because Dean's taking the blame. Again.

Dean's sorry and he won't let it happen again.

Sam feels a wave of nausea in the face of Dean's regret. While Sam may apologize for touching Dean against his will and showing his brother his true feelings, he's not sorry at all for _how_ he feels or how _much_ he feels. And to see that Dean doesn't feel the same and wishes it never happened rips at Sam's insides.

He watches Dean read, barely paying attention to his internet search results and dully thinks that he's pretty sure Dean has no idea how freaking sexy he is right now and if he had any idea where Sam's thoughts really were, he'd be hightailing it out of here at light speed.

Sam's eyes wander over the computer screen and he sits up intently, suddenly seeing what's been staring him in the face for the last five minutes.

"She's dead!"

Dean jumps a foot, magazine rattling loudly at the sound of Sam's sudden boom. "Who's dead?"

"Laurie's mom. She killed herself. About a month after the divorce was final."

"What? What the hell, Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean. All this news item says is that she was found hanging from the second story banister, her robe sash tied around her neck, and she'd been there for a few days before a neighbor found her."

Dean pushes back his chair, screeching it across the floor, and jumps up, starting to pace. "None of this is making any sense." He ticks off on his fingers, "First off, why kill herself? Second, why is Laurie's ghost still killing girls after she's already taken out everybody that hurt her? Third, what's the bartender hiding? And fourth, where the hell is Mr. Campbell?"

Sam stares at Dean for a moment before he mutters, "Wait…" and types something in on the computer. He leans back, shaking his head, "I didn't catch it before."

"Didn't catch what?"

Sam points to the screen and Dean walks around to look over his shoulder, "Each of those men died on the same night, one every year, until they were all gone. Tomorrow night is the night."

Dean leans down next to him, head close to his own, "Is there a time?"

Sam feels Dean's nearness and his breath locks up in his chest, making him unable to breathe, unable to speak. He turns his head and Dean's face is so close that all he has to do is move about an inch and his lips will be on Dean's cheek, trailing a line up to his brother's earlobe where he can lick and nip the sensitive skin, blowing hot air on tender flesh and making Dean shiver at his touch-

Dean feels his look and slants his eyes towards Sam, locking their gazes and all the walls fall away, leaving them both bare, treacherous hearts wide open and Dean's lips quiver, the look on his face fearful and uncertain as he draws a choked breath and exhales it out into the air between them. The smell of Dean's breath floods Sam's mind with memories of the night before, _Christ, the frigging taste of him_, and he moves forward on instinct, towards Dean's mouth, coherent thought falling away until all he can see, all he can feel is this wild passionate hunger rising up in him.

Dean sees it happen, sees him coming and pulls back slightly, barely perceptible to anyone else but Sam is so attune to his brother that he feels the tensing, feels the backward step and Sam's heart is crushed in his chest right then. He's sobbing inside, breaking apart piece by piece and he holds onto it by a weak thread, the knowledge that it would hurt Dean if he crumbles spurring him on, giving him strength to shove it aside and move ahead, focus on the task at hand.

He drags his eyes away from Dean's and clears his throat, reading quickly, "Looks like…yeah, each man died around 9:00 on the Sunday night before Memorial Day. You think, uh, someone's gonna bite it tomorrow night?"

"Maybe. But who?" Dean looks at Sam, bewildered.

Sam shrugs, staring into space.

"Look up Laurie's dad." Dean orders and Sam types in the request. He scans the internet hits quickly and points one out to Dean before clicking on it.

A newspaper item pops up on the screen, announcing the happy nuptials of one Ernest Campbell and one Harriet Stowe, exactly one day after the divorce to Laurie's mom was finalized.

"Weird how she forgot to mention that little fact, huh?" Dean's voice is hard and stern. He gets pissed when people try to fuck with them and the hard glints shining out of his eyes gets Sam's insides all squirmy, making his mouth feel too full of spit now, and Sam's afraid he'll start drooling at the sound of that low timbre.

Sam yanks his mind back, swiping at his mouth with his sleeve before he manages to focus on the job and stutter out some lucid words, "Ok, so. Laurie is killed by four men and comes back to get her revenge on them. In the meantime, Laurie's parents divorce within months of her passing, her Dad marries the bartender who practically witnessed his daughter's death and then her mom kills herself right after. And _then_, the girls start disappearing from the camps."

Dean pulls over a chair and sits next to him, staring at the computer. Sam leans back and closes his eyes, making a conscious effort to relax and let his thoughts flow. Something clicks in his head and his eyes snap open as he sits up to look at Dean. Dean's eyes are staring back at him and they say it at the same time, "Two ghosts."

Dean starts, "What if it wasn't a suicide? What if Laurie's mom was threatening Mrs. Stowe because she left her kid alone in a barroom full of drunks to go in the back? What if Mrs. Stowe offed her to get her out of the way so she could have married bliss with Ernie?"

"What if Ernie helped?"

Dean nods, "Well, if Laurie knows it, then she's going to go after them for killing her mom. And we already know that's going to happen tomorrow night, right?"

Sam mutters "And Laurie's mom? She's probably just lost, angry because her daughter was killed and trying to find Laurie when she senses people are coming into camp, to save her and to stop her from dying. Since ghosts don't have any real sense of time and vengeful spirits usually get things a little muddled, she doesn't realize that by touching these girls with her hands, she's killing them, not saving them like she wants to."

"We need to pay a little visit to the bartender tomorrow night."

"Dean, what if we're wrong?"

"Well, then, nothing will happen and we're back to square one. But, if we're right and Laurie's ghost shows up to finish off her Dad and his loving wife, we'll be there to stop her."

Sam agrees, "And then, we have to get her and her mom together. That should stop any more girls from getting killed."

#

Dean calls Mrs. Stowe to ask if they can come back out to visit the following evening while Sam looks up a conjuring spell on a Wiccan website, making a note of all the ingredients and stuffing the paper in his pocket. They swing by the convenience store to buy ice, more beer and stuff for the incantation they'll need to perform. The older woman behind the counter frowns at the mix of items, candles, soap, olive oil, salt, honey, dried cloves, and lemon juice.

With a fake shudder, she smiles up at them, "Whatever you're cooking, I'm glad I'm not invited to dinner."

Sam smiles at her, "Homemade insect repellant. The bugs love him." He motions to Dean.

"Really? You'll have to jot down the recipe for me. They go for me, too." The woman waved to them as they left the store.

#

"I'm starving, Sam. Can we throw some of those steaks on? Maybe have a couple of beers?"

"Sure, Dean. I'll start up the grill."

Dean pops open two beers and hands one to Sam, downing the other in quick gulps. He cracks open another bottle, watching Sam for a moment as he gets the coals going and then walking away, standing at the edge of their camp, staring into the woods.

Sam gazes after him sadly, seeing the dejected slump of his shoulders, the too fast gulping of beer, the eyes narrowed in thought. It's all Sam can do not to go and throw his arms around Dean, hold him tight and kiss him breathless, sucking down the pain and torment shrouding his brother. He knows he could make Dean forget all his troubles if Dean would just let him _touch_, let him _caress_-

Soon, the steaks are sizzling and Dean's on his fourth beer to Sam's third and it's good to be drinking together because maybe it'll loosen their tongues, maybe Sam can finally open up and tell Dean what's happening with him. The alcohol doesn't seem to be having much effect, though, he's still stone cold sober and it looks like Dean is, too, from the way he's prowling around the camp.

Sam puts the steak on buns – they're gonna have to eat them as sandwiches – and hands a plate to Dean, who mumbles a quiet 'thanks.'

Sam finds the scotch and pours them both stiff shots, handing one to Dean and holding up his own, "Cheers."

Dean's eyebrows raise a little but he gamely downs the booze, inhaling his sandwich right after and making another, pacing for a few more seconds before finally coming to sit next to Sam, sprawling out in the chair.

Sam pours another shot and they drink, feeling the warmth flow through them, relaxing them. Soon, the scotch works its magic and they're bumping shoulders, knees touching as they rest, bellies full and heads pleasantly muddled.

Sam clears his throat, "Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean shoots him a quick look, frowning at him, "Sorry for what, Sammy?"

"Sorry I forced you last night. I lost control and I made you…well, I'm just sorry."

Silence for a moment and then Dean gives a harsh laugh, "You didn't _make_ me do anything, Sam."

Sam sits up and turns towards Dean, saying earnestly, "But I did. I dragged you into the woods, shoved you up against the tree and forced myself on you. You were even trying to fight me off and I still didn't stop and I'm really sorry."

"I was into it just as much as you were. You got nothing to apologize for."

"But, you're sorry it happened, aren't you? I mean, you said you were..."

Dean gives an exasperated sigh, running his hand around the back of his neck, "I should have stopped it, Sam! You didn't know what you were doing, you were all caught up in the chick you were dancing with and you were horny so I was there, the next best thing, I totally get it! I was the one who should have pushed you away, should have-"

Dean continues, taking a deep pull of breath, "Shit! I'm the oldest and it's my job to make sure you're ok. And it kills me when I see that you're hurting. And I know you're freaking out right now about this and I swear, Sam, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. You just gotta trust me on this, ok?"

Sam lays his hand on Dean's arm, "This isn't your fault. It's mine. You didn't do anything wrong. Dean, I need to know one thing and it's really important that you tell me the truth."

"What?"

"Are you sorry it happened?"

Dean turns away, slugging down another belt of scotch, refusing to answer and everything that Sam wants to say to Dean, how much he feels, how much he loves, clogs up in his throat and he swallows it down with the burning liquor, unwilling to bare himself so completely to the man sitting stiffly next to him.

Dean regrets what happened last night, regrets their love, their passion for each other and Sam won't hurt him more by telling him the truth.

He won't tell Dean that he loves him more than life or that he wants him so much, it's all Sam can think about.

He won't tell Dean that he can't trust himself anymore to be around his brother and that one of these days, hell, one of these _minutes_, he's going to be weak and lose control again, and the next time, he's going to take Dean naked and fierce, rutting and pounding into him because he's never going to be satisfied until he _owns_ Dean, in every way.

Sam won't say any of that because denial is the only gift he can give to his brother right now.

Sam closes his eyes against the sadness and pain in his heart, his insides burning as he takes a deep swig of scotch, feeling it rip at his throat and move all the way down to his belly, trying so hard to be cool and casual and not let Dean see-

"Yeah, I guess I was just horny for that girl. That's the only explanation. So, let's just move on, ok? It doesn't matter anymore, anyway."

Dean still won't look at him, staring off into the distance and holding himself like a rigid tin soldier.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"We good?"

Dean sighs deep and looks down, "Yeah, Sammy. We're good."

Sam knows they're not good. They're not good at all.

#


	5. Chapter 5

#

Six glasses into the scotch and Sam and Dean are feeling no pain, the sweltering heat of the afternoon making the drunk they're working on more intense, the sweaty mugginess of the air causing the hooch to kick into them good and hard.

They stopped talking about what happened between them last night after glass number one. It's too painful to deal with so they push it away, ignore it as if it never happened and move onto the serious business of getting hammered.

By unspoken agreement, they scoot their chairs away from each other, afraid of touching, either by accident or casually, because it may happen again, they could lose control with each other and this time, Dean's pretty sure he'll be the one doing the dragging into the woods. Better to be safe and sit apart than be sorry when Sam bolts away from him again like a frightened deer.

To pass the time between swats at buzzing mosquitoes, they take turns thinking of people to drink to.

"Here's to Bobby, jus 'cause he's awesome." Dean holds up his glass, "An' to Ellen, 'cause she's awesome, too."

Sam echoes "To Bobby 'n Ellen." And he drinks down a swallow, thinking hard. "Here's to Ash"

"To Ash." Dean raises his glass again and takes a drink.

"And here's to Ash's dick…"

Dean spits out his scotch, choking "Dude, what?!"

Sam explains, "You 'member when we knocked on Ash's door and he opened up with no pants on and we both saw his dick?"

"Sam, that's jus wrong. The man's dead, shit, he died trying to help us…you should have a little respect."

"Well, I'm toasting to him, aren't I? And we're drinking to his dick. How much more respect can I give the guy?"

Dean snorts a laugh and Sam replies, holding up his glass "Come on, take a drink. It's not disrespectful, we're honoring his memory."

"Ok, to Ash's dick." Dean drinks again, "Nice. You're an idiot when you're drunk, you know that?"

Sam sighs, "Yeah, I know."

Sam wipes beads of sweat from his brow and squints up at the sun high overhead, beating down on them both. The air shimmers with heat, the incessant buzz of insects and chatter of birds louder because there's no wind and it's close, soggy, like breathing through a wet towel with not a ruffle of a breeze blowing. Sam takes another swig from his cup.

"Dean, s'hot. I'm gonna go for a swim" Sam's words are slurring a little, the scotch in him working its way around his tongue as he stands up and staggers over to the tent, grabbing his duffle bag and pawing through it.

Dean gestures with his cup. "Your trunks are hanging on that tree. You put 'em there with your towel to dry out yesterday, remember?"

"Thas right." Sam walks over, pulling his t-shirt off over his head as he goes and losing his balance, falling into the tree he's heading towards with a thump and a muffled 'Shit.'

Dean watches him, a grin lighting up his face, "You're drunk, Sam and you're gonna drown and I'm gonna have to save your ass, just like always."

"Not drunk yet 'n I'm sweating it all out anyways. Too fucking hot today." Sam leans back against the tree and unbuttons his jeans, sliding them off his hips and down, kicking them away and then hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear.

Dean's grin dries up on his lips as he realizes what Sam's doing, and what he's _about_ to do in just a couple of seconds. _Jesus_, he's gonna-

He chokes out a hoarse, "Sam, stop."

Sam either doesn't hear him or ignores him because he just keeps going and Dean's tongue seals itself to the roof of his mouth as Sam pushes down his shorts, over his already stiff cock and down his thighs, letting them fall to the ground. He doesn't seem to care that he's out in the open where anyone can see him or that he's naked in front of the brother he humped against a tree last night, nope, he's just standing there, all red and swollen and hard-

He's the most drop dead fucking _gorgeous_ man Dean's ever seen and a whimper escapes Dean's throat before he can stop it. His lips suddenly parched, Dean snakes out his tongue to wet them, watching with bated breath as Sam carefully steps out of his underwear, moving slow and deliberate so as not to fall over again, and-

_Holy shit_, Sam's body is hot and decadent and so fucking _stunning_ it's almost indecent. There's a glisten of sweat all over the tanned skin, giving his flesh a slick gleam that Dean wants to lick away, drop by sparkling drop, to see if Sam tastes as good as he looks.

Dean's eyes rake over Sam's naked flesh, remembering how sweet the flavor of that skin had been against his tongue and _God_, he wants _more_, more of that nectar, more of that honey, to drink of that until he's bursting. He hungrily traces the lines of Sam's body with his eyes, aching deep inside his gut for just one taste of that tanned expanse of chest, that hard nub of nipple or the long slope of throat.

Sam reaches out to the high branch above him and makes a grab for his swim trunks, managing to catch one leg and tugging hard but the trunks snag on a jutting twig and he tussles with it, body stretched taut as he strains upward to free the cloth.

Dean tightens his jaw, the tic in his cheek fluttering wildly and when his knees start shaking, he grits his teeth harder, locking his legs in place and holding himself stiff, too scared to move. His body feels cold and hot at the same time, every nerve in him is trembling at the sight of Sam's flexing muscles, so hard and cut into flesh they look sculpted, shaped from an artist's patient hands.

_Sam's not fighting fair, damn it!_

"Got 'em!" Sam crows as he frees them, triumphantly twirling his swim trunks in the air around his head with a smile as big as Texas. He leans back against the tree again, standing on one foot, and lifting the other, trying to keep his balance and get his trunks on at the same time.

Rooted to the spot, Dean fights against the hot lust rising up his spine, surrounding him in scalding flames. From his toes to his chest, he's tingling with it, tight knots in both his belly and in his throat, leaving him huffing for air as he watches Sam struggle to get dressed

Dean tries to shake it off, tries to draw in a semblance of a breath, telling himself it's the scotch working in him, doing this to his insides but he knows better. This insatiable _need_ for Sam has swallowed him whole and after last night, it's worse than ever because now all he can think about is Sam's mind-blowing taste and soft touch, his warm dulcet skin and his mouth, _Jesus_, that delectable mouth that had turned him into a quivering lump of desire, kissing the fight right out of him.

Just like the sight of Sam is doing right now. Every wall, every mask Dean has is ripped away as he gazes at his brother's naked body, leaving him raw and panting, so vulnerable that he can't even pretend anymore. He's broken, helpless against the huge wave of love, of passion, of _want_, that's just slammed into him and he's got no fight or resistance left.

"Y-You-" Dean can only stammer out one word before the fever takes over his brain, leaving him shivering with tension, his vision reduced and focused on one part of Sam's body above all others and that part is standing at attention, front and center, bobbing with his brother's clumsy movements, engorged and so _fucking_ luscious looking-

It's beckoning to him to come and eat, drink, feast-

Dean wipes at his mouth, shaking fingers across his lips as his imagination runs rampant, until all he can see in his mind's eye are his lips moving up and down on Sam's long, thick, swollen, sweet tasting –

_Jesus, stop it!_ With a jolt, Dean snaps backwards, almost giving himself whiplash, the movement spurring him to action and before he knows it, he's marching forward, snatching the towel off a low hanging branch and reaching out, tying the cloth around a surprised Sam's waist tightly.

"Dean, what-?" Sam's voice sounds muddled and slurred, and he's frowning at Dean in confusion.

Dean grabs his shoulders and spins him around, shoving him forward, deeper into the trees "You change in the woods or in the tent, Sam! Not out in the open in front of God and anyone walking by!"

"Dean-" Sam's stumbling ahead, trying to hang onto the towel and his equilibrium at the same time.

Dean stops shoving behind a grove of trees, "Gimme those trunks!"

He pulls them from Sam's fingers and drops to his knees on the ground at his brother's feet, "Lift up your foot."

Sam doesn't move and Dean flicks a glance upward, growling out in frustration, "Sam, come on-"

He trails off at the look in Sam's eyes. They're bright and sparkling with desire and there's something else underneath, something calculating and deliberate.

_Sam's not drunk at __al__l…he planned this whole thing…_

The thought flashes through Dean's mind, causing a sputter of surprise, a flicker of wariness and he unconsciously braces himself for what's coming.

Sam studies his brother, making sure he has Dean's attention before reaching down to the knot of the towel. He moves slow, eyes sweeping down and then back up, bidding Dean to follow his gaze. Dean watches Sam's fingers work the material until it gives way and falls to the ground near Dean's knee.

Something hits against Dean's cheek, velvet-soft flesh brushing his skin, leaving a pearly trail of wet behind. He frantically jerks his eyes up to Sam's again because Dean can't look at what's near his face, doesn't even dare turn his head or move because he's strung about as tight as he's ever gonna go and the next twang on his control will break him.

Something else looms up in Sam's eyes, something hot and simmering, like a volcano spewing molten lava, it's lust and passion and determination all mixing together, staring down at Dean through huge, soft eyes.

In his peripheral vision, Dean sees Sam buck his hips forward, feeling the nudge of dick against his face, satin skin bumping just under the sharp cut of Dean's cheek bone.

_He's daring me- _

Even as the thought crosses his brain, Sam's voice, rough with desire, reaches his ears, "Touch me."

Dean swallows thick over the baseball sized lump suddenly lodged in his throat and shakes his head, his voice low, frightened, "No."

Sam tosses his hair out of his eyes and challenges Dean with his eyes, urging him along, "Come on, you know you want this. We both do."

Another bump to the cheek. Dean desperately tries to ignore it by closing his eyes and shaking his head, "Sam, you don't know what you're-"

"Yeah, Dean, I do." His voice breaking now, Sam utters the one word he knows will make Dean give in, "_Please-_"

Shit! He can't do this! He's gripping the swim trunks he's somehow still got in his fists like they're a lifeline, squeezing his eyes so tight, he's seeing stars behind them and he can _smell_ Sam, for Christ's sake, musky and sweaty, salt and sugar all at the same time. It's too much for his brain to take in and the wet spot on his cheek is sticky now, he can feel it when he tries to swallow and yeah, like swallowing is going to happen any time soon with that huge lump stuck in his throat.

One more nudge into his face and the smell of Sam sweeps up his nose, so potent, so intoxicating that it fills his head with images of everything he ever wanted to do to Sam's body, how he wants to lick and kiss and touch and fuck his brother-

And he can't take it anymore, he has to taste that soft, sweet skin-

A half-sob wrenches out of Dean's chest and the next thing he knows, Sam's cock is sliding in between his lips, over his tongue and down, one of his hands gripping the base of Sam's dick tight and the other sliding around to caress that sweet, taut ass-

Sam tastes so good, so _goddamn_ delicious and Dean's mouth is filled with the deep and succulent flavor, warmth and silk slipping over his tongue, swooning into his head, overpowering his reason, his sanity until all he sees, all he knows is that thick, delectable cock filling his mouth.

Dean can't get enough, can't take Sam in deep enough or fast enough and he's opening his mouth wide, diving forward, almost gagging himself in his urgency, in his haste and then sliding his lips almost off, hovering at the tip of Sam's dick before plunging back on in.

Grunting and moaning above him, Sam widens his stance so he doesn't fall over in the throes of passion and his hips are jerking uncontrollably, Dean's tongue stimulating every nerve in his body and Sam's reactions, and all the delightful sounds he's moaning are making Dean so fucking horny, his hard-on is straining and pushing up against his jeans.

"Dean, holy _shit_, wait…just…ahhhh, fuck, y–you gotta slow down cause I'm gonna-"

Sam's babble reaches Dean's ear but he's not stopping now, not when he has freaking heaven in between his lips and the taste of his brother, the feel of Sam, hot and heavy as he thrusts into Dean's mouth is so _fucking incredible_, and he opens up his throat, trying to take Sam in as deep as possible, as fast as possible.

Sam's hands are on Dean's head, pushing against him to try to slow him down but he's got Sam right where he's wanted him for years and he's going for it, Dean's in control now and he wants to taste Sam's essence, feel him shoot deep into his throat and pull every flavor, every tang, every mouth-watering drop from Sam-

Dean's tongue is flicking and swirling with each backward jerk, working the head of Sam's cock, tickling the slit across the top and dancing along the sensitive underside before he plunges his head forward again, enveloping the rock-hard shaft with his warm, wet mouth.

Sam's just hanging on for dear life now, words barely making sense between his brother's moans and stutters, "God, Dean! Feels so….God, your mouth…shit…holy shit…you…so good, so fucking _good_…"

Dean feels Sam's orgasm starting, feels the pulse of dick in his mouth, the hot jolt of flesh against his teeth and Sam's whole body stiffens, ass cheeks clenched rock solid under Dean's palm. Sam tightens his grip on Dean's head, jerking him forward while Sam thrusts his cock in, stabbing deep into Dean's mouth, almost choking him with the force of it-

And then Sam explodes, spurting come deep into Dean's throat and the taste of it, _sweet Christ_, it's the best thing Dean's ever had and he drinks deep, moaning hotly at the delicious ambrosia hitting his tongue, not wanting to lose a single drop, sucking hard, swallowing every bit down until Sam's empty and sagging against him.

He lets go of Sam's softening dick, licking the outside clean to make sure he didn't miss any of Sam's seed and then he sits back on his haunches, staring up at his brother with a satisfied smile on his face, watching Sam recover.

His brother is huffing in deep pulls of air, body tremulous beneath Dean's hand, face flushed and eyes squeezed tight, his hands still clinging to Dean's head. Dean pulls downs Sam's hands and kisses each palm, his own sanity returning quickly now that his appetite has been sated.

_He ran away from you this morning._

The thought slithers through his mind, clearing it, bringing him back to reality with a thud. He swallows thickly, satisfaction replaced with a gripping fear around his heart as he realizes just what the _fuck_ he just did.

_Sam said he wanted to_, his mind argues with himself in the split second he has before Sam recovers completely, _but he was h__al__f drunk on scotch and not thinking clearly, couldn't have been, otherwise, Sam would never have __al__lowed, would never have wanted-_

_Shit, goddamn and fuck!_

He staggers to his feet, back pedaling quick, the horror of what he just did reflecting on his face, in his eyes and Sam's staring at him, searching his expression, assessing him and comprehension dawns in Sam's gaze.

"Dean, wait!"

Sam's hands find Dean's shoulders, gripping him fiercely, pulling him forward and when Dean pushes against Sam again, Sam tightens his hold, squeezing painfully.

Dean grits out, "Get your goddamn hands offa me, Sam!"

Sam's eyes are shining with unshed tears, "No. Dean, please, just-."

"I said hands off!" A mindless surge of anger rips through Dean's chest and he rears back and swings, catching Sam under the chin with his fist, the punch whipping Sam's head around with the force of it.

Dean's fists are clenched, ready to let fly again and Sam stares at Dean with huge, hurt eyes, holding his face with a hand and working his jaw to make sure it's not broken.

Dean feels like the biggest asshole in the world that he just hit Sam for no goddamn reason other than Dean is totally fucked up and can't control his own libido and is so freaking pissed off at himself he can't stand it. And now Sam's gotten the brunt of his anger.

With a growl of frustration, Dean reaches up and grabs Sam behind the neck, yanking his head down, smashing Sam's mouth into his own in a punishing kiss, taking him roughly, cruelly. Sam starts to pull away but then stills, and Dean feels Sam's hands at his waist, sliding under his shirt, palms hot on his back, urging him closer.

He shoves Sam's lips apart, forcing his mouth wide and thrusting in his tongue, finding Sam's and dominating, plunging deep. Sam doesn't fight or protest but just hangs on, bracing against the onslaught, being thoroughly plundered and letting Dean take it all, have it all, meeting the harshness with gentle love.

Dean breaks the kiss, pulls in a deep breath and battens down again, crushing Sam's lips against his own, tasting coppery blood from the ravage of mouth, tongue and teeth and sucking it all down. Sam moans low in his throat and pulls Dean closer still, until their chests are tight up against each other and Sam's rubbing Dean's back, mindless soothing circles that finally penetrate Dean's rage and suddenly, the fierceness, the self-loathing is all gone, lost in Sam's loving fingers and gentle caress.

The kiss changes now and becomes more, full of promise and future and hope, Dean's tongue sliding against Sam's passionately and he's tasting and sucking now, moaning deep into Sam's throat, trying to get as close as possible, wanting to show Sam how much he loves him.

When he feels Sam's hands moving on him, sliding over the bulge in his pants and squeezing tight, it snaps Dean back to reality quicker than cold water ever could. He rips his mouth from Sam's and steps back, staring at his brother in horror before turning and making a bee-line for the Impala, Sam right behind him, struggling to tie on the towel he quickly snatched up.

"Dean, don't go! Please!"

But Dean's beyond listening and with a creak of door, a growl of engine and a spray of rocks, Dean is gone. He looks back once, seeing Sam in the rear-view mirror, standing dejected, shoulders slumped, head down and Dean drives away as fast as can.

Dean pulls over a couple miles down the road and gets out of the car, breathing heavy. He stares into the woods surrounding the highway, hands on hips, scowling at the world. Bending down quickly, he grabs up a handful of gravel and throws it into the trees, yelling, "Fucking pine trees!"

He sits on the hood of the Impala, tears springing to his eyes and he slaps at them angrily but they keep rolling down his face "Son of a bitch! Goddamn it, Sam!"

Now what the hell are they supposed to do?

#


	6. Chapter 6

#

Sam restlessly rolls his shoulders, digging his hands down into the sand next to him, squeezing it, kneading it between his fingers, worrying at it without even knowing he's doing it as his mind races and he tries to figure out just what the _fuck_ to do.

#

He'd wandered down to the lake by accident. After Dean took off, he'd put on the stupid swim trunks and just started walking, going around in circles, it seemed, just putting one foot in front of the other, plodding along, his mind filled with Dean. Sam had called Dean's cell, of course he had but his brother hadn't answered or returned his frantic voice mails.

_Frigging Dean._

Blowing hot and cold towards him and getting Sam twisted up inside until he was a knot of worry, of nerves, all mixed up and unable to figure out just what in hell Dean _did_ want. He'd sucked Sam's cock until Sam was almost screaming with pleasure and less than five minutes later, he'd sucker-punched him across the face and then kissed the breath out of him.

Seriously – what the hell?

#

Sam kneads the sand faster, fingers plunging in, letting the grit scrape against his palms, the grains still hot from the sun. Dean wanted him – Sam was sure of it but for some reason only Dean knew, he wouldn't let himself go, wouldn't let himself have any of it and for the life of him, Sam can't figure out why.

#

It was a surprise to find the lake suddenly in front of him, bringing Sam back to his surroundings with a thump. A lonely stretch of beach flowed before him, deserted, unplanned beauty that made him catch his breath at the peaceful scene. After throwing down the towel he was surprised to find he was still carrying, he'd gamely waded in, letting the cool water soothe his hot skin and frantic thoughts, letting the silt floor, velvet and soft, cover his toes like a warm blanket.

He'd dived, surfacing quickly and struck out, hand over hand, swimming hard through the water, pushing himself until his heart pounded and he gasped with exertion. Only when his body was physically exhausted did he stumble back out onto the beach, where he'd thrown himself down, crouching onto his towel, and started massaging the sand, anxious thoughts eating away at his heart.

He'd been so happy, so goddamn _happy_ when Dean had finally touched him and he'd told himself it was all ok now, they were together and everything would work out. Then it had happened.

Dean's melt down.

He'd seen it coming, watched it work it's way over Dean's face, a wave of sheer terror that took hold and shook Dean's core, leaving him stunned and shaken, until all he had been able to do was run, a streak of lightening in a warm summer storm. Dean had bolted before Sam, still caught up in the aftershocks of orgasm, could even stutter out more than his name and now Dean's gone and Sam can't even try to talk some sense into his stubborn, thick-headed brother.

_Frigging Dean._

#

A noise to his left has him squinting in the sun, searching for the cause and there stands the source of his pain, tan and golden in his swim trunks, bare-chested and bare-footed, holding two six packs of beer and a towel, staring out at the peaceful lake. How the hell Dean found him in this isolated place, Sam can't figure but he doesn't ask, only shields his eyes from the sun and tries to read his brother's face. Dean is busy _not _looking at Sam as he puts down the beer, spreads out the towel next to Sam's and sits down carefully. Still studying the lake, he hands Sam a beer, pulling back quick when Sam takes the proffered bottle, careful not to touch.

Sam opens his beer and digs the other hand back into the sand, gripping tight and waiting.

He's expecting Dean to apologize for being psycho brother, for punching him and for driving away and leaving him standing in the middle of the road, clutching a towel around his waist, choking on the Impala's exhaust.

Dean twists open a bottle and upends it, chugging half his beer in one swallow, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and glancing over at Sam, meets his eyes for a instant before jerking his gaze away, back to the lake.

Sam takes a long pull off the bottle, drinking deep, still not saying a word, working the sand fiercely.

Dean clears his throat, "You weren't drunk."

Sam opens his mouth to explain and shuts it again, shaking his head wordlessly, making Dean look over at him to see the response.

The green eyes flick back to the water and Dean's voice is hard and low, accusing, "So you tricked me."

Huh. Not only is Dean not apologizing, but it sounds like _he's_ pissed at Sam. A lick of anger rolls through his belly and Sam's temper starts to heat up, causing his words to be clipped and sharp when he retorts, "Yeah, I did."

Dean's voice is harsh now, "Nice. Care to tell me why, Sam?"

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Sam sputters out, "Gee, let's see. Maybe it's because of how you act, Dean! Like us being together is a mistake and…shit, I don't know…maybe it's because you can't seem to make up your goddamn mind! First you act like you want me and then you're shoving me away – I feel you staring at me sometimes but you won't ever let yourself touch me-"

"And then today, you're fucking deep-throating me in the woods one second and then nearly breaking my jaw with your fist the next , so yeah. A little confused here. And I tricked you so I could find out what the _fuck_, you know? You-"

Dean cuts in "Hey, you ran away from me, remember? You took off the minute you woke up in my arms and now you're saying I'm confusing you?"

Sam's voice is rising with frustration now, "That was the best night of my life and all you can fucking say is how sorry you are." He mimics Dean's voice, "'Won't happen again, Sam, won't ever happen again!' Well, maybe I want it to happen again, did you ever think of that? And maybe I'm not sorry at all! You fucking cut me right off at the knees before I could say a word and tell you how it was with me – cause you're so quick with taking the blame for every fucking thing and you're so sure that you know everything I think and feel! You don't know everything about me, Dean!"

Angry eyes meet angry eyes.

Dean's cheeks are flushed, his eyes glittering hard, his mouth a thin, pinched line, "I know that you don't know what the hell you want! You're letting yourself get carried away, throwing yourself into this headfirst, just like you always have and you don't know enough to stop. You're mixed up, that's all and you don't know what the hell you're feeling-"

With a growl of rage, Sam springs sideways, shoving Dean backwards and sending his beer flying. They wrestle for top in the sand but Sam has the advantage of height, weight and desperate fury and soon, he has Dean pinned, his knees on Dean's forearms, splayed on either side of Dean's hips, holding him down and glaring into his brother's startled eyes.

Sam growls out the words, "I ran because I didn't want to see the disgust in your eyes when you looked at me, knowing how I felt about you. And don't you tell me what I want because that's not your call! The only one who's mixed up here is you, Dean, not me. I'm crystal clear about what I want! I want you!"

They both glower at each other, eyes shooting sparks of fire into the air between them and then, Dean is struggling under him, trying to buck him off and spitting out words, "Get the fuck off, Sam!"

Holding Dean down with all his strength, Sam stares down into his brother's angry face, Sam's rage ebbing and sliding away as he becomes aware of what Dean's hips are doing against his and Sam's dick is already waking up, tenting his trunks out in front and pressing hard into his brother.

Passion flares up in Sam's belly, making his skin hot all over and he can't catch a breath, can't pull in air as he feels waves of lust crash into him. He licks his lips, focusing on Dean's mouth, the flash of white teeth, the pink of tongue behind and those gorgeous lips that tremble and part for Sam whenever he kisses them…

He bends over Dean, who stops struggling, muscles rigid, guarded, waiting for Sam's next move and Sam maneuvers his lips next to Dean's, so close they're almost touching, the warmth of Dean's breath mixing with his.

"I want you…" Sam mumbles again, snaking out his tongue to lick across Dean's bottom lip softly, rewarded with Dean's sharp inhale.

Dean shoves against him again but Sam's not letting him go anywhere, not until they clear the air and Dean must sense that because he mutters hoarsely, "I don't want to talk, Sam. You get that? I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please."

Sam whispers against his mouth "Ok. You listen. I'll talk."

Dean tries for an angry glare but it falls flat, eyes pleading with Sam instead, "Maybe I don't want to hear it, Sam. You ever think of that?"

"I know you don't want to but you're gonna hear it anyway."

"Oh, really?" Dean grits out the words, pressing his lips together tightly and turning his face away, shutting Sam out.

A smile tugs at his lips at the gesture, so Dean and so child-like at the same time - if Dean can't see it, it doesn't exist and he doesn't have to deal with it.

Sam begins, his voice sensual and warm, like smooth brandy, hot breath stirring the hairs above Dean's ear, earning a reluctant gasp of delight from his brother as a shiver racks across his body.

"It started when I was twelve. Things I never noticed before I was suddenly aware of – intense, you know? Like the heat of your skin whenever you'd throw an arm around my shoulder or how your muscles flexed under your t-shirt. You'd walk around in your underwear and my heart would pound like a freaking freight train and I wouldn't be able to breathe. When we'd train and you'd pin me, I'd get a hard-on like you wouldn't believe – actually, kinda like I have right now. I-I thought it'd go away, hell, my body was changing so much at that point that I put it down to just more fucking hormones and shook it off. But instead of going away, it got worse until I was dreaming about you, your body under me, moving against me and then, it wasn't just at night anymore, it was all the time."

Sam rubs his nose against Dean's cheek, inhaling his scent, letting himself remember, "I was terrified, so sure that you'd guess how I felt because we were so close, you always seemed to know what I was thinking before I thought it. I had to be so careful with what I said and how I looked at you because if you had ever found out, you would have probably either beaten the shit out of me or laughed me out of the room. Then, you started bringing home the girls you'd pick up – you told me it was time to start my education and I should 'listen and learn'. All those night I spent, listening to you fuck whatever girl you brought home that night or jerking yourself off, just made me want you all the more."

Dean turns his head, staring into Sam's eyes, searching his soul.

Taking in a deep pull of air, Sam smiles a little, "I…You…uh...totally surprised me with that blow-job, Dean. I was hoping to just get you to touch me, maybe jerk me off and then you went and laid that awesomeness on me and about blew my mind. Damn, your tongue is incredible."

He sees the flush creeping into Dean's cheeks and doesn't know if his brother is pleased or embarrassed at his words but Sam can't worry about that. He can only keep talking, forging ahead, desperate to get it all out of him before he loses his courage. "Whenever you'd go down on one of the girls you'd bring home and, you know, use your tongue on her? I used to watch and listen, and wonder how it'd feel to have your mouth on me and I remember thinking the girls always made lots of noise, squealing and moaning like you were doing something incredible to them, like they were in heaven or something. I used to think they were exaggerating, making those sounds to feed your ego-

Sam leans forward, pressing a small kiss onto Dean's mouth and to his surprise, Dean's responsive under him, lips soft and parting so that Sam can dip in his tongue for a quick taste and Sam pulls back from that delicious place before he lets himself go further, needing to finish what he has to say, "Now I know. They-they had no choice…it's that fucking tongue of yours, and your teeth and your lips…Shit, you had _me_ making those noises, Dean and I heard myself doing it and I couldn't have stopped, even if I wanted to."

Dean snorts a little and looks up at him, a small grin playing on his lips, "You were full on whimpering like a girl, Sam."

"Shut up, jerk." Sam says without thinking and Dean laughs.

Sam hesitates, then locks eyes with his brother and Dean's smile slides right off his face, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't just love you as a brother, I love you as a man, and I'm through lying about it, to myself and to you. Now, you can tell me to fuck off or call me whatever names you want but now it's out, in the open, and we have to deal with it."

When Dean starts to protest, Sam cuts him off, "I know you think I don't know what I'm doing or worse, that I don't know what I want but you're wrong and just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it's bad. I love you, ok? I love you and that's all I know. The rest is just…a natural progression for me."

Sam bends to kiss Dean again, only this time, he lets himself take what's offered, parting Dean's lips and pushing in with his tongue, sliding through and curling around Dean's and the heat rises between them, they're huffing breath into each other and Dean moans low in his throat, opening up, asking Sam to go deeper, to take more.

Breaking the kiss with effort, Sam gasps out, "You want me, too. I need you to say it, Dean. Tell me the truth."

Dean shakes his head, bumping Sam's face with his own, looking away, looking everywhere but at his brother. Sam watches as Dean's jaw hardens, the nervous tic dancing across his cheek, and Dean won't answer, God damn it! Why won't he fucking just say it?

Sam rocks against Dean's hips with his own and Dean stammers out a choked, "Sammy…" before he falls silent, eyes staring up at Sam, fearful and sad all at once.

A hint of steel in his voice now, Sam persists, "Dean, tell me the truth."

But Dean still can't say it and Sam suddenly understands, in his gut, that Dean will break and reveal too much if Sam makes him talk and he can't, not right now.

Sam nods, wanting to help Dean out, to give him the truth he can't say with his mouth, "When'd you first know?"

"Shit!" Dean grits out a sob, breathing heavy and then bows his head, eyes filling with tears, finally admitting it, "Same as you…when you were about twelve. One minute, I was fine and the next, I wanted to climb into your bed and fuck you, instead of the chicks I'd pick up. I sure couldn't let myself touch you like that. You were my baby brother and I had no business thinking that shit about you. It made me sick and I hated myself and I could hardly face you. Only thing I could do was bring home more girls to fuck, try to get my mind where it was supposed to be and not-"

"Dean, why'd you run?"

Dean looks over Sam's head, searching the blue sky for answers, biting his lower lip in agitation, finally bursting out, "Because you're my brother, Sam and it's wrong to want to fuck your brother, ok? It's all wrong! I'm not gay and neither are you so what the fuck are we doing, man? I mean, what is this shit? I can't get rid of it! I've tried and I've fought and I've ignored and it's all for nothing because it'll never go away! And I got-"

Dean trails away and Sam prods him urgently, "You can't stop in the middle like that, Dean! Got what?"

Dean just gives another shake of his head.

"Shit, Dean, don't you know I'm going to keep asking you until you talk?"

Dean exhales loudly, angrily, "Scared, ok? I got scared."

Sam's confused, "Of what? Of me?"

"Of you, of this, of how much I feel. Shit, Sam, I-" Dean swallows hard, staring up at with panic in his eyes, "I'm scared to fuck this up, fuck you up. Of all the things I've done wrong in my life, I did right with you and I-"

"Dean-"

"Don't want you hurt, dammit! Doesn't matter what I need or what I want! Only thing I got left is keeping you safe and that matters more than anything else."

"You won't hurt me." Sam promises.

"You don't know that, Sam."

"Yeah, Dean, I do. You would never hurt me. Never." Sam's quiet voice is confident.

"Wish I was as sure about that as you are."

"Dean-" Sam stumbles to find the words, "I can't go back. Not to how it was before. I know you now, I know what you taste like, what you feel like and I'm want more. And I'm not gonna stop until I get more."

His voice drops to a whisper, "And I want you to want that, too. Dean, it's not wrong, not at all. This, what I have inside of me, what I feel for you, isn't wrong. It's not gay, either. It's just…I love you, man. That's all it is."

Dean gives Sam a tired look, beaten down with the weight on his shoulders as he mumbles, "I'm so fucking tired of pretending all the time."

"Then don't." Sam bumps his face against Dean's gently, "Don't pretend. Not with me."

A deep sigh raises Dean's chest as he wars with himself for a few more seconds and then he closes his eyes in defeat, nodding silently, "Ok, Sam. Ok."

Sam holds his breath, afraid to hope, "Ok? Does that mean-?"

"It means you owe me a blow-job, dude."

Suddenly trembling, Sam can hardly control the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

#

Sam still won't let Dean up. Not even after he promised not to go psycho and change his mind again. Not even after he promised _five times_ not to go psycho and change his mind again.

Even though it's only been a few minutes, the sun's lowering in the sky and Sam's lying on Dean, kissing him until he has no breath left, until his lips are bruised and swollen and Sam still can't get enough, just keeps nuzzling against Dean's mouth, asking for more. The twilight brings the cooing of doves on the lake and the answering ruckus of the loons, dusk coming up unawares until Dean's growling stomach has become too loud to ignore and they're both shivering in the cooling air of night.

They bump shoulders and hips as they make their way back to camp, pulling on clothes against the chill in the air, and Sam soon has the grill sizzling with hot dogs and hamburgers while Dean lights a fire to fend off the buzzing insects that surround them in the dusky light.

Dean still looks freaked out, as though he expects Sam to change his mind any minute and tell him he's only joking around, that he doesn't really love Dean or want Dean like he said.

So Sam eats and worries at what the night will bring, wanting to give his brother every pleasure, hoping that Dean will realize how deep and how _much_ Sam feels. He nervously chews on a hot dog, licking off the ketchup before each bite, glancing up at his brother through the fire.

Dean's watching him eat like Sam's the meal and Dean's still starving…

#

The fire licks into the air between them.

Through the flames, Dean watches his brother, the shadows playing off the sculptured face, shaggy bangs hanging down, and the orange-yellow flickers of light dance on his smooth skin. The fire is reflected in the ever-changing color of Sam's dark eyes, now narrowed against the wisps of smoke working their lazy way towards him in the gentle breeze.

He catches Dean's look, staring at him across the heat, and Dean sees something in the depths of those eyes, something dark and hungry glittering there, just before Sam's face goes hazy and smeared in the air just above the blaze. When he can see him clearly again, when the flickers have crackled down and Dean's focus is sharp and hard, Sam's gaze is now on the images dancing in the flames and the lust was probably imagined, just wishful thinking…

The smell of the fire whets his appetite, sharp apple wood and cedar ash curling into his stomach, making Dean's mouth water but not for food. No, he's definitely not craving food.

Sam meets his eyes again and no, he's totally not imagining the desire in Sam's gaze…and it's all _his_, all for him and the shiver down his back has nothing to do with the cool air.

Sam slowly rises up, his eyes dark with heat, with night and, making sure he has Dean's attention, wanders towards the tent, waiting until he's standing next to it before turning back. He stares into Dean and tugs up his shirt, pulling it off his head and dropping it lazily to the ground, rubbing a hand over his hard abdomen and up to his chest before giving Dean a sensual smile, turning and climbing into the tent.

A moment later, Dean sees the lantern go on inside and realizes his mouth is bone dry, hanging open and he hasn't taken a breath in a while because his lungs are just about screaming for air.

He rubs his mouth with shaking fingers, wrestling with himself for all of two seconds before he tosses what's left of his burger into the fire and jumps up, hurrying to the tent as fast as he can.

#


	7. Chapter 7

#

Dean stands outside the tent, gulping air for courage; still not sure he can shake off all the years of denial and just let himself have this.

It's too ingrained, too much a part of him now and no matter what his mouth says or what his heart wants, his stupid mind won't let him be. The insidious voice in his head, worming its way through his brain, telling him that he's shameful, pathetic, and perverted, has him putting on the brakes, screeching to a halt and throwing the whole damn thing in reverse for a quick getaway. He turns to flee-

"Dean?"

Sam's soft voice catches him and he stops, stock-still as he feels the frantic worry ease its pounding at the sound of his brother, his soul soothed by the warmth, the love in that tone.

"_I __al__ready told you five times I won't run away, ok? Let me up __al__ready."_ The promises he made to Sam fill his head and, determined to keep his word, he sets his jaw, firmly pushing away the nasty voice inside until it trails off into muttering silence.

Dean takes a deep breath and kicks off his boots, reaching out to pull back on the tent flap, dropping to his knees to climb on through. Once inside, he takes a look and rocks back on his haunches, exhaling a hoarse gasp, "Holy shit!"

The kerosene flame in the lantern turns the inside of the tent orange and yellow, the shadows of light dancing on Sam's lean body, waxing and waning to a melody all its own. Sam is sprawled on top of his sleeping bag, naked in the flickering light, one hand behind his head, the other wrapped around his cock, his hand doing a lazy pull up and down. Sam's gaze is fevered, scorching and it shimmers across the air at him in the close, still space of the tent, licking across Dean's body like a touch.

The smell of Sam, raw sex and heat, fills his nose and Dean's crawling forward without even realizing he's moving, until he's on his knees next to his brother, watching Sam's hand move up and down, fascinated by the pearly drop oozing out of the tip of the hard shaft.

He reaches out to touch with the edge of one finger, smearing the glistening dew over the slit and around the head of Sam's dick, hearing his brother's harsh inhale of breath and Dean watches the wet catch the lantern light, shining and dimming as he swallows hard over the rising lump in his throat.

It's all he can do not to lean forward and lick Sam clean. He knows himself well enough to know he won't stop at one taste, won't stop until Sam is exploding in his mouth so he holds himself back…not yet…not yet...

Dean runs his tongue over his lips slowly, he's got no spit since he laid eyes on his gorgeous brother's naked body and he traces along the underside of Sam's dick lightly, using his fingernail to scrape against the vein that runs the length. Sam's hips jerk up in reaction, sharp and quick, the shaft under his finger hardening, engorging and Sam tosses his head back, closing his eyes and gasping out a hot breath, his whispered, "_Holy shit_, Dean…" making Dean smile in satisfaction.

His gaze sweeps over Sam's lithe form, _Jesus, would you just look at him_, holding himself back in sweet anticipation, knowing that gorgeous body is all his tonight and he can taste Sam, touch Sam to his heart's content, until Dean's finally sated, filled up and then maybe he can rest. He wets his lips again, eyes roaming over the chiseled muscles, the golden expanse of skin, the jut of hip bones leading down to-

Sam's voice penetrates his musings as a hand curls around Dean's neck, tugging him close, whispering "Come on, Dean…come on…_please_…I need…" and he feathers a kiss across Dean's lips, leaving them tingling.

Dean's moving slowly, carefully, slipping his body along his brother's, taking his time, even though Sam is urging him impatiently, and Dean's on top now, laying full length on his brother so Dean can feel the hardness of Sam through his jeans. Sam's hands are moving, sliding down to cup his ass, firm and possessive, like they have a right to be there.

The light flickers on their faces as they stare into each other, breath stuttering between them and Sam strains up, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Dean's mouth, soft and shy, quick as a heartbeat and then he's pulling away, blinking up at Dean with his big eyes that are asking for _something_-

Sam presses another kiss in, rubbing his lips along Dean's, sensuous, languid, gentle against his brother's mouth and when Dean tries to deepen the kiss, pushing Sam's mouth open to taste him, Sam pulls back sharply and shakes his head, playing coy, catching his lip between his teeth and bumping his dick up against Dean's.

Dean, puzzled at Sam's response, dips his head in for another kiss, wanting, no, needing to taste Sam's tongue now but Sam tightens his mouth, stubborn and firm, not allowing access as he gives Dean an innocent peck on the lips, pulling away quickly and staring at his brother, the hot look in his eyes almost glowing.

Dean frowns down at Sam with narrowed eyes and gives a growl of annoyance. He straddles Sam's hips with his legs and plants his hands firmly on either side of Sam's head, locking eyes with him in a mini battle of wills.

_I'm going to kiss you and you're going to let me._

_No._

_We'll see about that._

He bends, capturing Sam's mouth, pushing his lips apart and when Sam tries to turn his head away, tries to stop him, Dean threads a hand in Sam's hair, fingers gripping tight, and he's alpha dog now, dominate, towering over Sam, taking control, taking the lead, holding that mouth where he wants it-

Which, Dean thinks as wild hunger rages through him, is exactly what Sam was going for anyway.

A satisfied sigh works its way through Sam's chest and the hand that slides up around Dean's neck is hooking him in closer, holding him tight instead of pushing him away.

Dean breaks the kiss, whispering against Sam's mouth, "You want me to take you rough, Sammy? Is that what you want?"

"God, _yes_…"

Needing no more urging, Dean battens down on Sam's mouth, shoving in and pushing open Sam's lips with his own, spreading him wide open and thrusting his tongue on through. He finds Sam's tongue, meekly hiding in the wet recess inside and he slides up against it, around it, caressing and circling until Sam is moaning into his mouth, shivering underneath him and kissing him back with abandon. He breaks the kiss, leaving Sam panting for breath and licks along his brother's jaw up to his ear, nuzzling his nose into the space where lobe meets neck and breathing in Sam's scent, deep and lush with the steamy passion seeping out of him, sharp and tangy, and mixing with Dean's own.

He tongues along Sam's ear, dipping in and earning a gasp of delight from his brother, hot breath blowing in to cool the wet and then he's nipping at the lobe sharply, giving Sam pleasure and pain at the same time, until Sam is twitching up against him. Back at Sam's mouth, he crushes his lips down on his brother's, mashing against Sam's teeth, fierce and hard, taking his mouth, whether Sam wants him to or not.

"Mine." Dean grunts when he pulls away, glaring down at Sam, daring him to argue and Sam, eyes dazed and hooded with lust, nods breathlessly.

Dean sits up, peeling his shirt off, torso damp with sweaty passion and tosses it to one side. Sam's hands go to Dean's jeans, frantic fingers suddenly there, helping, unsnapping and unzipping, urging Dean up, yanking at the denim until it's off and tossed aside, and practically ripping off Dean's underwear in his haste, until Sam's got it off and there are no more walls, no more barriers between him and Dean's naked body.

They're chest to chest now, bare skin pressing into each other, Sam's hot flesh rubbing against him and Dean can't even remember when he's been this turned on, his cock so hard now, it's almost painful. He bends his head to run his lips over Sam's jaw and down his throat, humming against the flushed skin, finding the vein pulsing in the hollow below and he kisses gently, feeling Sam's life throb underneath his lips.

Dean licks down further, over Sam's chest, trailing wet onto one nipple, sucking and teasing, biting down hard, and Sam jumps against him with a small cry of pain, of passion and bucks his hips up, smacking his hard dick into Dean's, eyes closed in ecstasy.

Dean slides his tongue across to the other nub, swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip and sucking it to hardness, bearing down with sharp teeth and Sam moans, shivering under him. Dean nuzzles his nose into the soft skin, kissing and licking down to Sam's stomach, watching the flesh twitch and jerk in anticipation as he moves over the quivering belly and down further, rubbing his cheek against the soft hairs under Sam's belly button, the shadowed triangle pointing the way to more delights.

Dean licks over one hip bone, and Sam rolls his hips, trying to get Dean's mouth over onto his dick but Dean's got another destination in mind. He traces a finger over the other hip bone, tickling down around Sam's dick but not touching, feathering a touch over Sam's sensitive inner thigh which part for Dean seductively. He slides his tongue over the other thigh, pushing Sam's leg wide, spreading him out and licking the inner corded tendon where leg meets pelvis. Sam's harsh breathing and soft moans fill the tent as his hips rock up and down, and he threads his fingers through Dean's hair, urging him, desperate for Dean's mouth.

Dean slips down Sam's body and positions himself between his brother's legs, hooking them under the knees and pushing them up towards Sam's chest, holding them there while he explores below. He slides a wet trail under Sam's balls, slow, lazy, the delectable taste of musk rolling over Dean's taste buds and making him dizzy with the heady flavor and Sam shudders, his whole body tensing against the pleasure rolling through him, "_Christ_, Dean…feels so _good_-"

Dean spreads Sam's ass cheeks wide apart and licks across the sweet hole with his tongue, swirling around the puckered skin in a circle before dipping in and out, poking and stabbing, and Sam's back arches up, his legs trembling under Dean's hands and he's not just whimpering anymore, he's grunting out words now, voice hoarse, harsh with passion, "Holy shit! You – you…God, your…_tongue_! So _goddamn good_…!"

Sam's head is whipping back and forth, one hand clutching Dean's hair, the other fisting the sleeping bag tightly and Dean can barely keep Sam's legs pushed up, his brother is squirming and rolling under him, out of control. The taste of Sam fills Dean's head, the sharp salt laced with sweet honey, and he strains forward, lapping into Sam with his tongue, wanting more and more of that fucking delicious tang that's swirling over his taste buds and sending his dick waves of heat, flicking and curling through his belly and below.

He can't hold off much longer, the sounds and tastes of Sam making his cock heavy with want, with need and he pulls his mouth away, gasping out, "Sammy, can I?"

"Yes! Fuck, _yes_, Dean, _please_!"

"I need some-" and Dean sees the grocery bags, his hot and horny brain quickly remembering the contents, and he lunges, crackling brown paper hurriedly, finding the olive oil and frantically twisting the cover off with his teeth, spilling some into his hand and down Sam's ass. He pushes into Sam with a finger, feeling his brother tense, breath hitching as Dean circles around inside of him, working the oil in, nice and wet, sliding in another finger hurriedly, stretching and opening.

"Mmmm." Sam moans up at him, starting to move his hips in rhythm.

"You like that, Sammy?" Dean voice is hoarse with passion. God, Sam is so fucking hot like this, wiggling his hips around on Dean's fingers, and Dean can't wait any longer, quickly smearing oil onto his thick cock, slippery and warm as he coats himself.

He pushes Sam's legs back up onto his chest, leaving his ass spread wide open and Dean positions himself quick, pressing the head of his cock into the tightness, feeling the channel close around the tip of his flesh like a vise.

Sam grunts, exhaling forcefully, "God, Dean! You-you can't go slow like that 'cause it's gonna hurt like hell…" His hands drop down, feeling for Dean's hips and gripping tight, urging Dean forward, "Come on, come _on_-"

And Dean pulls back and thrusts in, getting halfway there before Sam's muscles lock down around him, holding him in a fist of iron and he can't move or pull out, can't go anywhere because Sam's damn ass may just squeeze the life out of him. Dean breaths down painfully into Sam's face, "Relax, Sammy, you gotta relax…_Jesus._"

Sam's huffing out breath, trying to breathe through it, muscles releasing their grip slowly, finally loosening and Dean flexes his dick inside, making sure everything's still in working order. Sam wriggles his hips to give Dean more room and Dean gasps with pleasure, waves of it sweeping over him, shivers of desire racking through his spine. He pushes himself into Sam more, then backs off, sliding out almost completely before thrusting in again deep.

"Ahhhh…." Sam gasps out, gritting his teeth on a moan, "Christ, feels so big, Dean…so fucking full…too big…"

"Shhh, Sam, we'll go slow. We got time…all the time in the world."

Sam nods, eyes flinching with hot pain as Dean thrusts in again, and Dean leans forwards, licking across Sam's mouth, dipping in for a quick taste, swirling around Sam's tongue with his own and feeling Sam's muscles relax around him as they kiss. He thrusts in another inch and swallows Sam's answering groan, kissing him deeper, opening up Sam's mouth wide and searching for every taste, every flavor of Sam.

Kiss. Inch. Kiss. Inch.

Finally, Dean gives one last drive forward and he's in, buried deep in Sam's ass and they're both pulling in deep gulps of air, shaking and trembling against each other. Dean gives one last kiss, pulling all the way out and eases on back in nice and slow, into the tight channel that grips him and holds him like a second skin, hot and squeezing, pulsing and damn, feels so _good_-

Dean draws back again and Sam moans as Dean slides back in, the going smoother now, Sam's relaxing and starting to move his hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust and holy shit, that feels so _fucking good_-

They both increase the rhythm and Dean shifts his hips, plunging in again and Sam jumps, bucking up against him fierce and sudden, thrashing around under him and pulling at Dean's hips with claw hands, "God, Dean! What the fuck was that?! What'd you just hit-?"

And Dean does it again, jerking back faster now and snapping his hips forward, and Sam's reaction is fast and furious, body writhing in ecstasy, head thrown back, teeth bared and muscles tense, "Shit! That's…ahhh…God, that's fucking…so _nice_…"

And Sam's hands slap down, gripping the sleeping bag with white knuckles, hips bucking up impossibly high, and Dean thinks Sam may want to swallow him whole because each time Sam's hips jerk, Dean goes in deeper-

"Harder…harder…"

Dean almost doesn't hear it over Sam's frantic breathing, the rasp of air moving through his chest so loud in Dean's ears that he's sure everyone at the lake can hear.

"Dean, please…do it harder…" Sam almost sobs out his need and Dean obliges, rocking his hips back and then slamming forward, shoving his dick all the way in, and Sam thrusts up against him, taking all of him and wanting more.

Dean jerks out and pounds in again and Sam's hands are on his shoulders, digging in hard, hanging on for dear life as Dean drives in deep, heading for home and Sam cries out with pain, with pleasure, "So good…so goddamn good-"

Sam's close, making guttural noises deep in his chest, animal growls with each thrust of the hard dick inside him, and Dean's hand closes over Sam's shaft with a tight fist, dragging the skin up and down with a flick of his wrist, pulling up in a sweet rhythm. Sam thrusts up into his hand, and Dean can tell he's teetering on the edge, walking the line, arms pin wheeling and Dean leans forward, sucking down on of Sam's nipples and that's it-

Sam explodes, spurting out all over Dean's hand and between them, rocking up into Dean's fist as he comes and Dean's pulling and tugging on the pulsing dick in his hands until Sam falls back, panting and exhausted, pushing Dean's hand away.

Dean leans forward, forcing Sam's legs up more and pummels into the tight hole surrounding him, staring into Sam's eyes, faster, faster and he feels the heat lick through his belly, shooting down his legs and leaving him trembling. He shoves in harder, the curl of flames growing, pushing him higher, further than he's ever been and he's swaying towards the edge, hanging by a thread, cresting the mountain and the fire crashes on through, breaking him-

He shouts out with the sparks of pleasure coursing through him, orgasm rippling through his body, shooting his load deep into Sam, hearing his brother's voice from a great distance muttering soothing sounds as he gasps for air, still pumping in. Christ, it's lasting forever and the spasms rack through him again, draining him and finally, finally, he's done and collapsing into Sam's waiting arms.

When he can breathe again, he huffs out, 'Christ, Sam, that was the biggest fucking orgasm I ever had in my life!"

Sam's warm chuckle vibrates through his chest where Dean rests his head, "Me, too, Dean. Me, too."

Dean pulls out of Sam slowly, moving up to lay with his brother, enjoying the quiet peace that fills the tent now, relaxing against Sam's chest, curling around him tightly and Sam's arm circles Dean's shoulders with a loving squeeze.

They talk little, just enjoying each other's warm skin and after a few minutes, Sam yawns big, rubbing at his eyes like a child and Dean rouses him to get their bed made, unzipping Sam's sleeping bag and spreading it out and then using Dean's as a blanket.

Cuddling together underneath the warmth, Dean caresses Sam's face lovingly, "Sammy-"

"Ummm?"

"So help me God, if you wake up tomorrow and try to run away, I will kick your ass. Are we clear?"

Sam smiles at him, eyes closed, "Don't worry, Dean. I won't."

Dean whispers into his ear, "So what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Well, I was thinking that I still owe you that blowjob…"

Dean smiles wide, "Awesome!"

#


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_Ok, this chapter has been a major pain in my ass because my muse and I have been at odds for the past two weeks. I wanted a simple Wincest scene, __al__l full of brother love and hot, steamy sex and the stupid bitchmuse wants Sam to have a phobia and no matter which way I wrote it, it came out the same. So here it is and needless to say, the bitchmuse won (I hate her sometimes). I have no idea now where this story is going from here as none of this was in my outline so as of right now, folks, we are winging it. Apologies if it makes not a lick of sense. Phobias are like that sometimes._

_And for the Episode fans who mention Red Sky at Morning as having Sam in a storm, ok, yeah, but I don't even count that as an episode. It was more like an accident :D_

#

#

The rain shimmers on Dean's body as the moonlight peeks through a break in the clouds and catches the droplets, glittering in the brightening of the night. Water slips down his chest and trickles over hard muscles, just begging to be licked away by Sam's hot mouth. Dean's hair is soaked through; dripping over sculpted cheekbones, gathering on his eyelashes and tickling at his lips, making him bite at them through his passion.

"God, Sammy, feels so…God, your _tongue_…" Dean pants, his back arching up, hips rolling helplessly under his brother's insistent mouth.

Sam closes his eyes in pleasure, letting Dean's dick slide out of his lips, lazy and slow, his tongue playing along the velvety flesh underneath, lapping up the sweet taste, dark and tempting, sweat mixed with night, sultry and pulsing with heat. Fuck, could Dean be any more delicious?

The rain has turned the night steamy, warm and close, and the drumming of it on Sam's naked body adds to his hunger, his frenzy as he sucks and bites at Dean's tender skin. The sharp fragrance of the wet moss, soggy wood and pine needles mix together in Sam's nose, magnified by the rain and fusing with Dean's smell, becoming something new and Sam inhales the intoxicating scent deeply. It expands in his chest and explodes, swooning through his head, making him dizzy, punch-drunk and more ravenous than ever. It's delectable, mouth-watering and so _Dean_ that Sam moans over the tang of flavors and smells flowing into him. _So good, so fucking sweet, can't get enough..._

Sam feels fingers thread through his hair, gripping and tugging his head back, causing Dean's cock to drop out of his mouth with a soft pop but Sam chases after it, doesn't let it get away and captures the tip back up between his lips, sucking hard. A moan of ecstasy purrs out of Dean's chest, his hips swinging out of control, swift and violent and Sam's fingers are digging into his sides, holding him in place as he twists around Dean's dick with his tongue.

"Fuck, Sam!" Dean gasps out, grinding his hips up against the burning grip, chafing at the restraint, making Sam smile around his mouthful of cock before he opens up his throat, taking Dean in deeper than he ever has before and feeling his quivering brother come apart beneath him.

Revenge has never tasted this sweet.

#

Sam jerks awake, bolt upright, his heart pounding out a frantic thumping in his chest, gasping for air as he searches frantically for ghosts or demons or whatever the hell evil just woke him. Lightening flashes, bathing the tent in white glow, the crash of thunder making him jump as goose bumps rise up on his body.

A surge of anger slices through him as he rubs his gritty eyes. Damn it, he should be over this shit by now! It was different when he was a kid, cowering under his blanket until the 'boomers' went away, hiding his fear so Dean wouldn't tease him or worse, think he was pathetic and weak.

But now – he's not a kid anymore! He's an adult, a fearsome hunter that can kick demon ass one minute and chug a beer the next without even breaking a sweat. Okay, well, maybe breaking a little sweat, but still! The point is, he's grown and this stupid freaking huge fear of thunder storms has got to stop. Sam hugs himself tight, rubbing the pricking flesh of his arms and fighting not to dive back under the covers in terror.

Lightening streaks through the sky, the tent air flicking and yawing with silver and Sam moans with fear, feeling like he just may puke his guts up if the squall doesn't pass soon. The resounding smash of thunder that follows is so loud, Sam slaps his hands over his ears and buries his face in his knees. Fuck, that's close! He didn't even get to 'two Mississippi'!

A snort to his left penetrates his thoughts and he glances down, memory flooding back into him, warming him, calming him as he stares at the sleeping form splayed out nearby, his heart swelling up with love. He's not alone with the storm. Dean's here.

His brother's rolled onto his side, the blanket that was covering him falling down and away, revealing a smooth, bare shoulder, a sensuous length of back, a dip of waist and the sweet curve of a naked hip.

Sam swallows hard, mouth too full of spit as his eyes trace the line down Dean's body, his dick springing to attention like it's been a year since he had an orgasm, instead of just a couple of hours. His brother is without a doubt the finest looking man he's ever seen and Sam can barely believe his luck that this body laying so close, so warm next to him is all his.

Jesus, those muscles, tensed and flexed last night when Dean had been inside him, so hard and powerful, so fucking _forceful_ it made Sam weak in the knees just thinking about it. He loved it when Dean took control, shoving into him and _owning_ him. Christ, so fucking hot! Sam feels the flush working up from his dick to his face and he's panting with desire, remembering.

Another jag of lightening whites up the tent, flickering on Dean's skin, the gaunt cut of cheekbone ethereal and delicate in the color of the storm, and Sam's so caught up in staring at the beauty of his brother that he doesn't even flinch. His stark terror of a moment ago is pushed back, dissipated into the tent air by the sight of Dean's naked skin and Sam's brain is barely registering the turbulence outside – mostly because inside of him, a tempest all its own is raging.

His hands fall away from his ears and the crash of thunder that surrounds them scarcely penetrates his thoughts as his glance takes in the sexy back, muscular and tight, the skin trailing down under the blanket, kindling Sam's imagination and leaving him breathlessly aroused, throbbing, at the promise of what's below.

Sam wars with himself, telling his conscience that Dean needs his rest, and he, Sam, can just wait until morning to fuck his brother senseless. So, he's going to roll over and go back to sleep. Yup, that's what he's going to do right now, yessiree, he's going to roll over and-

Like hell he is.

Sam licks his lips, moving closer, reaching out a finger to trace the arc of soft skin, from Dean's neck down over his shoulder and lower, along the bicep relaxed in sleep and down the forearm that's curled over bare hip. Sam bends his head, mouth almost touching Dean's ear and blows a breath out softly, fluttering the hairs above and feeling the twitch of nerve along Dean's back. Sam tastes Dean's ear, his tongue swiping down to the fleshy lobe, pulling the meaty part between his lips and sucking gently. He blows air again, cooling the trail of wet he left behind and Dean stirs, causing Sam to pull back and wait, not wanting his brother awake just yet.

When Dean settles, Sam leans back in, licking along Dean's jaw and down his neck, nuzzling his nose in gently, inhaling the delicious scent of Dean, a mix of sweat and leather, sex and heat, scotch above and shadows below.

Lightening streaks through the tent and the rains come a second later, the tapping on the nylon shelter like fingers of an impatient hand and the thunder growls and then bursts, rocking the tent with another boom. Sam barely hears now, caught up in the smells and tastes of Dean's body.

He smells so _good_ and Sam's holding himself back with difficulty, the flavors swirling through his mouth and nose, and he's trying not to nip and bite but he can't help it, the fragrance of his brother burns in him, searing like fire, until he's wild with it. He licks over the chord of muscle near the shoulder, tugging on the tender flesh with his teeth, bruising, marking Dean as his. With a hungry moan, he runs his fingers along Dean's arm and under, fluttering over the ribs with a feather touch and caressing the cut of waist that dips and swells into-

Mmmm, hips and ass and Sam gently catches the blanket with one finger and lifts, trying to see underneath but it's too dark so he pushes it down, down until Dean's ass is peeking up at him and he runs a hot hand over the cheeks, cupping one and then the other, loving how Dean fits into his palm snug and perfect. He gives each a squeeze then dips a finger inside, testing the depth.

"Did you wake me up just to play with my ass, Sam?"

The hoarse whisper in the dark makes Sam jump but he recovers quick, scooting up behind Dean, laying flush against him, dick pressing into Dean's ass and hugs him tight, curling his face into Dean's neck and kissing lightly, "I'm sorry I woke you…"

"No you're not." Dean laughs.

"Ok, you're right, I'm not. Just wondered if maybe you wanted me to-" and Sam's fingers sweep over Dean's hip, moving in sensual circles, fingertips whispering over Dean's hard dick, getting a groan of passion for an answer.

"Shit, yeah, but first I gotta take a piss."

It hits him like ice water. Taking a piss means Dean. Outside. In the _storm_. Terror slams through him, sudden and consuming, like an animal lying in wait, crouching in the shadows of the tent and jumping out at him when he least expects it, all sharp claws and teeth. Christ, he _forgot_. The storm. _The storm._ Sam's fiery lust is gone, vanished in the blink of an eye, immediate and ruthless, leaving him stone cold inside.

No. Absolutely _fucking_ not.

He shoots out a hand, clamping down hard, hearing the panic in his voice, shrill and piercing, a thin edge of hysteria, as one word rips out of his throat, "DON'T!"

Dean jumps in surprise, both at the holler in his ear and the death grip on his shoulder. A quick turn of his head has him locking eyes with Sam, his colored with confusion, Sam's frantic and darting, "Why the hell not?"

"_Because_! I mean…it's…uh…" Sam licks his lips, voice sliding away, he _can't_ tell Dean about the stupid, irrational fear that snakes dread around his balls whenever he sees a bolt of lightening or hears the roar of thunder. Sam _can't_ tell his brother that he knows something bad will happen if Dean goes outside.

The cold around his heart squeezes tight as another slash of electricity flickers across the air and he inwardly counts the miles to the storm. The thunder is instant, booming right overhead now and Sam's belly lurches and rolls, a thin sheen of clammy sweat breaking out on his skin. He's trying to breathe calm into himself but the stale air in the tent, smelling of their earlier sex, lays heavy and Sam can't get a decent breath in as the room tilts sideways and the only thing he _can _do is hold on tight until he can focus.

Breathing shallow through his mouth, he stutters weakly, "B-because it's r-raining…"

Dean shoots him a look, a smirk on his lips at the statement because they both _know_ it's raining, the beating of it on the tent sounds like loud applause, and he opens his mouth, probably to zing Sam with a sarcastic remark when he stops and peers closer, rolling over onto his back. He studies Sam carefully, trying to see past the dark, searching his brother's face and then realization hits and Dean's left muttering, "Shit, I'm sorry, man. I forgot about you and storms. You ok?"

"You knew?! You knew this whole time?" Sam feels the flush of shame roll up his cheeks and fights the dizziness, managing to sit up and turn away before Dean's hand is on him, stopping him from leaving, pulling him back down to their bed.

"Course I knew, Sammy, hard to miss your little brother hiding under the blankets whenever it'd thunder. Why? You didn't want me to know?"

"I t-thought you'd think I w-was weak..." Sam huffs out, struggling in a deep pull of air until finally his lungs fill up. Ah, sweet oxygen. He feels his head start to clear and mumbles, ashamed, "And you'da been right."

"Nothing wrong with it, man, some things just freak people out. Remember, me and planes?" Dean looks at him speculatively, narrowing his eyes at Sam and then seems to reach a decision, "But I still gotta piss, especially if we're gonna-"

Before Sam can do more than gasp out his brother's name, Dean's out of bed, scooting outside with a "Be right back." trailing after him and Sam can hear him rounding the tent, going towards the woods.

Sam's mouth is open, the words that would call Dean back still trembling behind his lips, the sour sweat of fear dripping off him and he wipes his brow with shaking fingers. He waits, listening for Dean to come back, straining to hear a snap of twig or rustle of leaves, hell, anything to give him a sign that Dean is ok.

Nothing.

Two more minutes and Sam's heart is starting to thump uncomfortably, worry beginning to take hold when the lightening streaks on through again and the tent lights up, stark in its emptiness. Thunder rocks the ground and still no Dean.

Shit!

Sam grabs his jeans and pulls them on, sliding on his shoes and slowly working up the zipper of the tent, praying that Dean will come bursting in at any second and he won't have to go outside. Heart pounding, Sam opens up the tent flaps, seeing the jag of lightening right over his head, and he feels himself start to hyperventilate, the wheezing loud in his chest. The bang of thunder racks through his body like a Mack truck and Sam squeezes his eyes tight shut, on hands and knees, trying to push past the terror and get outside, to find Dean.

"Sam!"

It's Dean's 'I'm in trouble' voice, somewhere behind him in the woods, and Sam's instantly up and out, running towards the sound, keeping low to the ground, the warm rain pelting his naked chest.

"Dean!" Desperation making his voice rough, Sam hollers into the night.

Suddenly, he's grabbed around the waist and swung, pulled down onto the moss and twigs covering the ground, held down by a firm body laying on top of him and he's staring up into his brother's grinning face.

"Shhh, Sammy, you're gonna wake everybody up!"

"What're you-? Dean! Were you fucking kidding? You asshole! I thought you were hurt or worse…you -" Sam's furious, stuttering in disbelief.

"I thought I'd help you get over your fear of thunderstorms."

Lightning slashes through the sky above Dean's head and Sam jumps in reaction but Dean doesn't appear to even notice the storm. He just lays his weight more fully on Sam, bending forward, licking around an ear.

"Get off me, you goddamn jerk!" Sam shoves at him, terror warring with the fury now, washing over him in waves but Dean won't move, won't budge, instead the freaking idiot tries to steal a kiss, like Sam can even think about that at a time like this.

"Dean, please!" Sam's begging, the thunder blasting, as he pushes frantically against Dean's shoulders, wild to get away, to find cover, but Dean won't get the fuck off!

"Shhh….Sammy…I got you…I got you…" and Dean's hands are on Sam's neck, steely grip keeping him in place, his body dead weight, holding Sam down.

"Let me go! Let go!" Sam is rolling and bucking under Dean, desperate to run, to hide, and he rips at Dean's hands around his neck, trying to loosen his grip, hearing the frantic wheeze in his chest as his mind begins to shut down and he curls inside himself.

"Oh, no you don't!" Dean's hot hands run down his body, tickling and caressing, awakening nerves that tingle and pick at Sam, Dean's fingers flicking over his nipples to get his attention, one hand circling over his sensitive belly and down-

Dean's warm breath is in his ear, "Stay here with me…" as he works Sam's jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling off, the rain pelting Sam's naked cock which is springing out, standing at full attention. Ok, so his dick _clearly_ doesn't understand the dire situation they're in, it only knows Dean's near and it throbs upward, straining, wanting his brother's touch.

Dean's fist grips tight, dragging up the length of him and down, thumb working the tip, jerking rough and hard until Sam's hips start responding of their own accord and he's bucking up against Dean's hand. When the next strike of lightening comes, Sam flinches, muscles rigid and hips stuttering to a halt but it passes quicker than before and Dean doesn't falter, keeps pulling up and down until Sam's hips are back in rhythm.

Dean's voice, husky and low, "Just focus on me, Sammy. Only me..."

The skies open and the rains fall harder, faster, thrumming around them, isolating them and it's only him and Dean now and the fierce rain, Dean's hot hand working him, pulling him, until Sam is twitching and gasping with desire. Sam rocks his hips up towards Dean's fist, losing himself, losing control, being jerked closer to orgasm with each passing second, whether Sam wants it or not, seems like. The torrent hitting his face and chest tingles through him, shooting jags of nerves down to his balls and thighs, and his pants of pleasure are lost, swallowed up in the pounding of the rain.

Dean's hand stops tugging and Sam groans in protest, jutting his dick up into Dean's palm, needing him to keep going. Dean hushes him, moving up, straddling Sam's thighs and molding their hips together, dick on dick as he rubs and ruts, the sensous slide of him tingling hot lust through Sam's body. When Dean covers Sam's mouth in a kiss, Sam shoves against him again, clamping his lips together tight, his whole body rigid and coiled, like a spring, and Dean chuckles softly, settling in.

The rain beats down on them, dripping from Dean's hair as he places chaste kisses on Sam's lips, feather light, skimming across the quivering pink flesh. One soft kiss and then another, and Sam can feel the quaking power in Dean, the strength of him as he holds himself back, forcing himself to be gentle. Sam can feel his brother's need, his passion trembling in him, but Dean's not letting it out, not wanting to frighten Sam more and his kisses are tender, warm and searching, asking for permission. Sam feels thrills of desire as Dean's tongue, wet and erotic, slides back and forth across his bottom lip, slow, tentative, waiting for an invitation and Sam responds, Dean's soft touch breaking down the walls he's erected faster than rough ever could.

He relaxes, letting Dean push open his mouth, first just tasting with his tongue and then gliding in, flowing around Sam and pulling him out, into the passion where Dean waits for him with open arms and Sam gives a low moan of ecstasy.

Desire and hunger focuses Sam's mind, sharpens his appetite, the need for Dean's taste and sweet mouth overpowering everything else. Passion flares up inside him, unbidden and sharp, and then, to his surprise, anger rocks through him, so pure, so abrupt that Sam is snarling with it. How the fuck dare he? Dean had no right to trick him, to make him run hell-bent into the very thing he fears the most and think that would fix Sam, think _this_ would fix Sam. Dean is so fucking full of himself sometimes, so goddamn sure he has all the answers and he just about shut Sam down for good back there, is what he did. No fucking right to do that, none at all and it's about freaking time that Dean got a little lesson in humility.

The next thing he knows, he's grabbing Dean's shoulders, swinging him around and down, rolling on top and now Sam is baring his teeth at Dean, the lightening flashing behind him, feeding his fury.

"You-you son of a bitch, Dean! You fucking son of a-"

Sam's fingers dig bruises into Dean's skin, forcing him still as he grapples against Dean's mouth, taking it, punishing and crushing until Dean is thrashing against him, shoving at him, needing to breathe. He grinds his hips into Dean's viciously, wanting to hurt back, rocking in harder when Dean shoves against him, turning his face away, trying to get him off-

"No...Sam...don't..."

Sam pulls back and glares down at Dean, fierce eyes glittering as he swoops back in, smashing their lips back together, knocking teeth and pushing Dean's mouth open, demanding entrance and finally, Dean gives up, gives in and coughs out a choked sigh, opening up and letting Sam take what he needs.

As soon as Sam feels Dean surrender to him, his rage dissolves and hot tears fill his eyes, slipping down his cheeks and he breaks the kiss, burying his face in Dean's neck, crying and trying hard not to cry.

"I'm sorry!" Sam huffs out into Dean's skin, scared of what he just did, scared to look at Dean and see the hate in Dean's eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dean!"

Dean's hands are on his head, cupping his face, pulling him up so he can look into Sam's eyes and he stares up at Sam with such a look of love and understanding that Sam's heart almost breaks in two right there, overwhelmed by the emotions racking through him.

"Shhh, it's ok. I shouldn't have- Shit, man, I'm sorry, too. I thought it would help but I-I fucked up. Don't, ok? Don't be sorry."

Sam's face is screwed up, tears swimming in his big eyes, and he shakes his head at Dean, unable to speak. Dean gives a sound of impatience and pulls Sam's face down, covering Sam's lips with his, letting his brother wuffle sobs into his mouth for a couple of seconds and then kissing him deep and slow.

Dean breaks the kiss and pulls Sam's head down near his, whispering in his ear, "I love you, jerk."

Sam turns his head, staring into Dean's warm green eyes and mumbles, "Me, too."

Their lips touch, tentative at first and then hungrily, the need between them shooting flames of lust through Sam's belly and dick, making him tremble with desire, overwhelming him as he loses himself in Dean's erotic tongue. When they break apart to suck in much-needed air, the passion pulses between them, heavy and suffocating as they stare into each others eyes, Dean's half-lidded and sexy, Sam's feral and hungry.

Sam battens down on Dean's throat, sucking small kisses along the length and humming over the vein pulsing in the hollow at the base. He laps his tongue over it, feeling the beat, firm and steady, against his lips and he mumbles unintelligible words into Dean's skin as he moves down to a nipple. He licks a circle around it, dimly aware of his brother tensing below him, throwing back his head and making delicious noises in his chest. Sam swirls an arc around it again, feeling Dean straining towards him and he hovers for a moment, breath panting over the erect nub, torturing with anticipation as Dean lurches forwards another inch up.

"Sammy, please-" a whispered plea reaches his ears and he pounces, taking the tight skin between his teeth and biting down sharply before licking the sting away, hearing his brother's sharp inhale, his eyes never leaving Dean's face, delighting in the emotions that play on his handsome features.

His fingers flick over the other nipple, pulling and twisting, as he works the first, giving pain before pleasure until Dean is moaning and shivering underneath him, bottom lip caught between white teeth and Dean's hands work into the moss on the ground, pushing and pulling against it in sheer pleasure.

The storm still rages, the rain pouring onto them, steamy air surrounding them, but Sam is oblivious now to the snap and crash of it, focused on Dean, only Dean and how many more sweet sounds he can pull out of his brother. He licks the rain off Dean's chest, tonguing roughly then pulling in skin between his teeth, sucking small marks into Dean's skin, claiming him before working his way down, nuzzling over the soft flesh of stomach and lower.

He wraps his fingers around Dean's cock, already rock hard and angry red, and gives a pull up with a quick jerk of his wrist. A strangled cry, so soft he almost doesn't hear it, flutters across the air and Sam smiles, bending low, his hot breath warming the sides of Dean's dick as he mouths words against it.

"You've been a very bad boy, Dean…"

His brother goes very still, hearing every word over the roar of rain even though Sam is barely speaking above a whisper.

Sam continues in a breathy voice, "Making me come out into the storm when I was so scared, holding me down and then using my dick to make me forget where I was…Tsk, tsk…you so need to be punished for that…"

"Sam-" Dean's breath catches on his name as he reaches down to touch Sam's face, trying to caress but Sam pushes away his hand, shaking his head at him.

"Nope, too late to make nice now…now, I'm gonna have to make you suffer…"

Sam teasingly draws a circle around the tip of Dean's dick with his tongue and across, dipping into the slit on top and circling again, agonizingly slow, pulling a groan from his brother. He slides his mouth down Dean's shaft, sucking along the velvet skin, pulling it between his teeth, tugging on the flesh before licking around the base to the other side, to nibble and bite back up again. Dean's rolling underneath his mouth, hips starting to buck up, ass clenching with each upward lift. Sam laps around the top again, sucking the slit into his mouth and tightening around it, swallowing quick, making his mouth a vacuum and breathing through his nose, maintaining pressure.

"Christ, Sam!" Dean's eyes are squeezed shut, his face twisted into agony and ecstasy, his hips rocking up with each suck of Sam's mouth, gasping out an 'ahhh' with each release, head thrashing back and forth on the moss, drops of water flying off as he writhes.

When Dean is almost whimpering, Sam loosens the pressure, relaxing his mouth and sliding it, hot and wet, down over Dean's dick, feeling the slide of soft flesh on tongue, taking the length of Dean in deep and pulling off before diving back in again. He watches Dean carefully, knowing from years of seeing his brother jerk off exactly when he's close to coming and he bides his time, waiting.

When Dean's cock gives a jolt in his mouth, Sam presses his fingertips in at the base of his brother's shaft, stopping the orgasm dead in its tracks and Dean's eyes pop open and he's up on his elbows, panting and huffing, disbelief in every bone.

"What the fuck, Sam?" He's frustrated, verging on angry, his dick twitching and straining for orgasm.

Sam smiles at him lazily, one dimple showing, "Told you. Gonna make you suffer. You're not gonna come until I say you can."

"Like fucking hell." Dean is ready to shove Sam off and take care of himself.

Sam looms up over him, pushing his shoulders back and getting in his face, "You owe me, Dean, and you know it. You shouldn't have tricked me. Now it's payback time."

And lets his hand wander back down to Dean's dick, dragging the skin up and down slowly, thumb rubbing the tip on each upward swing as his wrist flicks with a nice rhythm.

Dean's body jumps against the pleasure and Sam is there, kissing him breathless before pulling back, muttering "It'll be like nothing you've ever felt before…"

Payback's a bitch.

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-to be continued-


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Sorry this chapter took so long. I was at the beach for most of it with limited internet access and tonight, I was finally able to get in! I've had one too many Mojitos tonight and probably shouldn't be posting this but what the heck, right? Let me know if you find glaring errors or stupid stuff. I'll gladly fix and be your slave forever!

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It was somewhere between the first and second time Sam stopped his orgasm that the rain tapered off to a light smattering on his face and the mist began rolling in around them, soft clouds curled low to the ground, muffling the noise of Dean's swearing a blue streak up at his brother.

It was somewhere between the second and third time that Dean was wishing for his gun so he could shoot Sam and satisfy himself, to ease the frustrating burn in his cock, the ache in his balls, desperate for any fucking relief he could get.

It was somewhere there, between the mist and the moss, that Dean shattered and lost control and there were no more masks, no more walls between them, only love and surrender and Sam, with quiet strength and fierce determination, taking him higher than he'd ever been before.

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Sam urges Dean's arms over his head, sliding his hands slowly up his brother's wet skin to his palms, locking his fingers around Dean's, gripping tight. His knees hug Dean's waist as Sam leans over, letting his dripping hair tickle over the sensitive inner flesh of the forearm and bicep above Dean's head. Sam's nipple grazes his lips, moving sensuously back and forth and Dean opens his mouth, chasing and finally catching it, sucking the delicious nub hard until Sam pulls away, popping out of Dean's mouth with a wet _thwuck_. Sam moves, offering him the other side and Dean's mouth works the tender peak to an angry red, tightening his teeth around it when Sam tries to pull away, not letting go until he hears the whimper of pain and the lust in his brother's low moan, "Fuck, Dean!"

Dean releases his grip and then sucks back in again, holding Sam rigidly in place by the nipple until he finishes licking away the sting. When he finally pulls away, Sam's harsh breathing fills the air around them and his brother's eyes stare down at him, shining in the night, glowing with hot sparks of passion as Dean gives him a grin, raising an eyebrow and challenging him to retaliate, "Two can play at this game, Sammy."

The look in Sam's eyes has Dean immediately regretting the gauntlet he threw down because the fiery need, the raw hunger that flares in the hot gaze looking down at him has his stomach jumping in fearful anticipation.

"Sammy-" Dean's words trail away at the sweet smile that suddenly crosses his brother's mouth and Sam looks for all the world like a lion that just found his next meal, all but licking his lips, ready to pounce. His words are a lazy drawl, heavy with threat and promise, "Your ass is mine, Dean."

Sam's dark head bends close, hot breath huffing in his ear, awakening his senses, shivering over his spine and the tone of his voice is hard steel, dangerous and so fucking hot that Dean is instantly simmering in his skin as Sam softly commands, "Don't. Move."

This is hunter Sam, all bad-ass and scary, holding himself so tightly wound that he oozes menace and even though Dean knows Sam _won't,_ the threat is there that he can take Dean by force if necessary. Dean respects that and understands this is the game, one of the rules, so he makes sure to hold very still to show Sam he's playing along, obeying and submitting like he's supposed to.

Sam releases Dean's hands and circles his fingertips over the insides of his brother's wrists, gently rubbing the thin skin, stroking and tickling the lower palms, the pads under Dean's thumbs surprisingly sensitive, the touch erotic and sensual, and when the rub moves down the inner forearms it's so–

So fucking sweet, that touch, it caresses and itches at the same time, the impulse to lean into it struggles with yanking away because it's _too _much almost, intense and sharp, nerves flicking and he can feel every whorl of Sam's fingerprints, every callous, every scritch and scrape of nails on skin and then Sam's touch is gone, like it never was, leaving him tingling and gasping for more.

He waits like Sam wants him to, impatiently chafing at the bit, though, because he _wants_ so much and it's not in his nature to give up control like this, not Dean Winchester, the older brother who's always got the reins, always does the ordering, the decision making and he counts to ten silently, trying to _let_ Sam but _fuck_ is it hard!

"Close your eyes" Sam's voice is hoarse and ragged and it curls inside Dean's stomach, warm tendrils sliding on through and Dean obeys, closing his eyes, giving up one sensory input for another, blind now but so awake, so alive, his skin pulsing with anticipation. He waits for Sam's soft touch, almost there and he can _feel_ him, hovering just above him, can almost _taste_ it, up his back, white hot and tingling as he strains towards it, nerves sparking and snapping, twisting like live wires in his body. He arches towards Sam, silently begging for his caress, shameless and needy, goose bumps rising up on his flesh and he's intensely aware of every breath coursing through Sam's body, the pungent smell of him, pure sex and fire, sweat and earthy rain filling Dean's head with wild hungry lust. Every move his brother makes heightens Dean's awareness until all he can think, all he can feel is Sam and he doesn't want to wait any longer, God damn it!

"Sammy, please, come on, huh?" Is that his voice, cracked and pleading? He sounds wrung out and desperate, laid wide open and raw and he knows Sam is seeing him, naked and defenseless but that's ok, it's all ok because Sam's taking him away, his touch, his caress bringing him somewhere higher, away from the rain still slapping at his skin, away from the stick of pine needles and twigs he's laying on, bringing him where it's soft and billowy, languid and stretched out, where Dean can just _be_, without guilt, without fear of repercussion…

His own slice of heaven.

The slide of Sam's fingers down his inner forearms makes him tremble, the skin there so alive, so responsive, it's new and sharp, each pucker and blemish more acute and when Sam rakes his nails across the flesh, his arms twitch and shudder, gripping his breath in his chest and squeezing, and he rolls underneath his brother, skin zinging and picking with thousands of needles. When Sam runs the tickle down inside his elbows and along the bicep towards his armpit, he gives a moan of pleasure, an erotic coil of heat through his belly giving him a metallic taste in his throat and his nerves tingle and dance along his arms, the skin pulling into tight goose flesh. His nipples harden, every wisp of air that wafts across intense, exhilarating, and when Sam strokes the inner armpit with one fingertip, Dean jerks towards the sensation, shivering with want, with need-

"Sweet Jesus, Sam! Fucking shit, that feels so…"

Sam scrapes down his ribs with a fingernail gently and Dean shies away from the touch, moaning with desire. _Shit, he didn't even know he was ticklish there!_ Sam does it again, skittering down the bones and Dean's muscles hum and shake, _no control, no control_ and Sam's fingers on his other side, making Dean's body twist back and forth and he's trying his damnest not to move but he can't make his body fucking _mind!_ The damp sheen of sweat breaks out on him and his skin shudders and rolls under Sam's fingertips, pulling the heat right out of him and Dean is jerking from side to side, hitching away, his breath catching too high up in his lungs to get in a decent breath and he's clenching his hands into fists, squeezing tight, trying to just stand it.

The wet of Sam's tongue comes next, along those same damn ribs and Dean hears himself moaning and whimpering as Sam explores, can't seem to stop himself cause it's coming from somewhere deep in his balls and shit, when's Sam gonna stop so Dean can catch a fucking breath? He's on nerve overload here and can't lie still at all with his whole body shaking like this and Sam's gonna drive him crazy with his damn tongue!

Which at this very second is lapping its way across his chest to the other side, licking gently along the spaces between ribs, until Dean can feel the heat build up inside him, inside his cock until it's sweltering, combusting, shooting out flames of fire that lick and flicker inside him. He's aching for Sam to just fucking _touch_ him already, grip his cock and drag the skin up and down until he's goddamn exploding all over, adding his own scent to the smell of wet moss and dirt, christening the woods with his seed.

He can almost bump his dick up against Sam's belly and he pitches up with his hips, hoping for-

_Yes! Contact! Mmmm, that's nice_ and he bucks up again, keeping his hips up this time, rubbing against his brother's soft skin with a sensual circle.

"What are you-? You sneaky bastard." A soft chuckle from Sam and then his voice hardens into anger, "But I told you not to move, didn't I? Someone needs to be taught a lesson…"

Suddenly, his dick is surrounded by hot and wet, jolts of fire sizzling through him, and sweet Jesus, that feels fucking _amazing_ and Sam's tongue – Christ – dancing and darting around him, sucking him in deep and then releasing, diving down again until the blasts of pleasure are rolling through him now, rocking his torso with spasms. Sam's mouth pulls and tugs, holding him tight and letting go, ebbing and flowing until they mesh together and before he can stop himself, he's threading fingers into Sam's hair, pulling him up tight and keeping him there and Sam's mouth-

"Christ, Sammy! Christ, your fucking mouth, holy shit, keep…, yeah, there, right there! Goddamn!" He hears himself babbling but can't stop, feels so good, so _goddamn good_ and just one more…once more in deep and he'll make it, the climb to the top faster now, so effortless and he's loping and bounding to the finish line, all grace and ease-

The end's in sight, the Holy Grail, the great Release and the only thing that matters right at this fucking instant is that tongue, that goddamn glorious swirling, sucking, decadent tongue that's turned him into a molten puddle of hot lava, a twitching pile of desire, not even a shred left of the powerful hunter he once was and shit, that tongue is a goddamn…shrines…shrines need to be built to honor it…and people should pray…pray for the great tongue of Sam that makes your dick want to explode all over it and never stop–

He holds himself back, trying not to thrust into Sam's mouth but it's too late, too fucking late and he's just gotta fuck into those sweet lips and he yanks Sam's mouth forward, God, so _delicious_ and so _hot_, it's scalding him with the fire of those lips….

Hips buck up and he's climbing, up and up, so high now and going higher still, dizzy and sweating, trembling as he teeters, suspended on the crest-

Sam's mouth is gone, as suddenly as it came and Dean's gripping empty air, the loss of it has him wheezing out a breath, almost sobbing as he stays on the edge, needing to come so fucking bad he feels like his balls are going to explode-

"No! Sammy, _please_! _Jesus,_ for the love of- , _Christ_, come on!" He's whining like a little kid and God, he so fucking hates Sam right now and he feels himself come down enough for sanity to return and he's white-hot angry, sputtering out words at his brother, "You fucking sadistic bastard! Freaking bitch! What the hell, man? Get the fuck off me! I said off!" and Dean's pushing at Sam, feeling himself start to lose it, coming apart and he's struggling to not slug Sam, holding onto control by a thin thread.

Sam grabs his arms and muscles him down again, staring at him in determination, "You were trying to get yourself off, Dean. I_ told_ you - not till I say. Now we understand each other."

"Sam-"

And his words are sucked into Sam's mouth as he covers Dean's mouth with his own, shoving in with his tongue and finding Dean's, sliding alongside so Dean can taste himself and down below, Sam's hips are bucking into him, his thick cock smacking up against Dean's, rubbing and pitching, heating him up to fever level and Dean starts that climb again, that fucking mountain he'll never see the top of and he's tired of it, tired of playing this stupid game and he just wants to come, God damn it!

His body responds to Sam in spite of his anger and soon, the rage is melted away in the rush of flames flickering through his belly now as Sam grinds his dick into him, rubbing the ache out of Dean until he's meeting Sam halfway, rutting up against that fucking hard, long, scalding flesh that's pulling him up, urging him to climb further, higher, no matter how tired, no matter how angry-

_Come with me, Dean, see how high we can go…_

Sam's mouth on his, hot and demanding, shoving him open and not satisfied until Dean surrenders and lets Sam in willingly, eagerly meeting him halfway, teeth and tongues clashing, withdrawing and melding together again, drawing each other in until the fire is right there between them, burning them, blistering as they roll and grind their bodies together.

Dean's almost there, thank Christ, and his hips jerk against Sam's, rubbing and circling until he's purring out his pleasure and there's that fucking ledge and holy shit, fucking finally at last, this is gonna feel so good, he's almost there, the tight fireball in his belly ready to split wide open, break apart and explode and he bucks up again-

Sam slides off and he's left there, dick red and oozing, huffing into the sky above and wishing someone would just shoot him and put him out of his misery. He feels hot tears gather in his eyes as the need in him overwhelms and he's out of control, thrashing around now, swinging and trying to connect with Sam's face, that son of a bitch, won't ever let him come and he's had it-

His hand goes down without thought, without will and grips his painfully swollen cock, and he drags the skin up and down, eyes closing in pleasure as he feels the orgasm start to build again and fuck Sam, if he won't finish him then Dean's going to-

Sam's hand is there, trying to stop him, yanking at his fingers to get them off his dick and Dean fights him, lost in a frenzy of gut-wrenching need and desperation. Sam finally manages to pry his hand off and that's the last straw and Dean's babbling now-

"Sammy, Sammy, please…whatever you want, man, just…you gotta…Jesus, please, Sam, I need….God, just let me – I can't take it! Can't anymore! Please, Sam!"

"Look at me."

Dean does and Sam looms over him, a satisfied smirk on his face and eyes glittering with a new hunger.

He bends low, close to Dean's mouth and kisses him softly, earning a moan from Dean as he catches Dean's bottom lip in his teeth and pulls. Sam releases him and purrs against his mouth, "Whatever I want? Mmmm…, let's see…"

And he's suddenly rolled over, fingers on his hips, urging him up to a kneeling position and he's instantly on his hands and knees, wanting to help, wanting to come and if that'll get him there, he'll do whatever Sam wants. He feels his ass cheeks spread wide and he tenses, suddenly afraid he can't take it but something wet and soft is moving into him, and ho, Shit, does that feel good!

It's sliding into him, flicks of desire shooting from there through his whole body and turning his insides shaky, trembling and _Sweet Jesus_, that feels fucking _sweet, _making him all loose and quivery inside,and before he knows it, he's shoving his ass back, trying to fuck himself against Sam's mouth, against Sam's tongue as it pokes and rolls, opening him up and getting him slippery wet. Sam's fingers work their way in and the tongue is still there, lapping and swirling over the sensitive hole as Sam plunges in deep and Dean's arms can barely hold himself up because _Christ _that feels fucking _outrageous_, all hot, wet and luscious inside. Sam's long slender fingers circle around, spreading him wide and suddenly pressing against something inside him that sends white-hot sparks out into his body, making him jump against Sam's hand, gasping out in surprise at the fire of it-

"Sammy-what the fuck is-?"

But his question is gone, lost in the pleasure, in the passion as he feels Sam move behind him and Christ, he's so fucking ready, just needs Sam so bad and his dick is already leaking and twitching with anticipation-

Finally gonna come, finally gonna come-

"Tell me what you want, Dean." Sam's cock nudges up against him.

"What-? I want to come, Sam! Thought that was what we're working towards here…"

"No, that's here, now. Tell me what you _want_, Dean."

_What? What the hell? No._ Dean shakes his head in disbelief. _Sam wants to talk now? Right the fuck now? _

"Sammy-"

Sam's voice is insistent, unrelenting, "Tell me right now, Dean, or we end it here."

"No! Okay, okay…" Dean tries to focus, offering up lamely, "Um…I want_ you_, Sam, you know that."

Sam sounds defeated, "Ok, we're done here."

"Wait! Wait…I don't know what you want to hear…what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me the truth. For once, just be selfish and tell me what you need, what you want from me."

Dean struggles with the words, not wanting to admit anymore than he already has because it's too much, he's already at the weakest Sam's ever seen him and he's still the big brother, damn it! Isn't he allowed to have a little bit left for himself? It's a matter of pride…

"I already told you everything…" Dean mumbles, closing his eyes and hoping Sam lets it go.

He's flipped onto his back so fast his head is spinning and Sam's eyes, glittering with anger and hurt, stare into his as Sam snarls, "Don't want to tell me? Fine-"

And Sam is up and off and Dean is alone and the fear that jumps through his heart is the worst thing he's ever felt as he lunges after his brother, catching Sam's wrist in an iron grip, and he feels the walls inside him crumble, the thread he's hanging onto frays and snaps and suddenly, he's weak, raw and bleeding, all over Sam, spilling everything that's ever been in his heart, in his soul and letting his brother have it all, finally, cleansing himself of secrets.

"Sammy, I...you-you're everything. I've wanted you, God, for so long and when you left for school, it almost killed me. I missed you so much and I tried...I tried to give you space...tried to give you what you needed..."

Dean's eyes fill with tears, "It was so fucking hard, man! You always thought what Dad wanted and needed was the most important thing to me but it wasn't, Sammy. It was you - it's always been you. I mean, I practically raised you, you know? I was there when you were sick, when you were scared or angry. I've seen every part of you and I-"

"You're my whole world, Sam and I can't live without you. What do I want?" Dean leans towards him, green eyes glittering with passion, "I want to smell you when I breathe in deep, taste you when I lick my lips and feel you in my skin. I want to touch you like I've been dreaming about almost my whole fucking life and I want you to touch me, know me, _own _me. I want you inside of me, making me feel you. I've been so fucking numb for so fucking long and all I want to do is feel again."

Dean's voice breaks as a tear spills over, rolling silently down his face, "I don't want to be numb anymore, Sammy."

Bending his head now, hiding his face and looking away, Dean swipes at his wet eyes with his free hand, the other still gripping Sam's wrist tight, and his shoulders slump, like a whipped dog just waiting for the belt to fall again.

Suddenly, he's shoved backwards onto his back and Sam is kissing the breath out of him, plunging his hot tongue deep into Dean's mouth, swirling and sliding, and it's a hopeful kiss, full of promises and future and _now_ and Dean responds eagerly, opening up and kissing Sam back, hands going to Sam's face to pull him in closer as he explores Sam's mouth, meeting him right in the middle and it's hungry and grasping, clawing and thrusting and they break only to huff in a much-needed breath.

Sam gently rubs his thumb over Dean's mouth, staring down at him with such a look of love in his eyes it snatches away Dean's breath. His mouth is back on Dean's, soft, small kisses that arouse Dean more than rough ever could and the words Sam murmurs against his lips have Dean closing his eyes in gratitude.

"I'll help you, Dean."

Hard thighs between his legs now as Sam pushes them apart, widening him up and spreading him open. Sam spits on his fingers and works inside of Dean, lubricating him again and does the same for his dick, slathering himself slippery and then nudging himself inside, just the head and before Dean can do anymore than gasp in surprise, Sam gives a sharp push, sliding his cock halfway up into Dean's ass, stretching him impossibly wide.

"Shit!" Dean's breath explodes out of him in a rush and his ass muscles clamp down, gripping Sam's dick like a vise, tightening over it.

Sam gasps, "Fuck, Dean! You gotta-gotta relax...shit, you're cutting off the circulation, man!"

"Trying…hurts! Holy shit, Sam! Aaahh!" Dean gives a moan as Sam pushes forward, trying to shove past the rigid lockdown Dean's got on his cock.

"Breathe, Dean…just breathe…it'll be okay…"

And Dean's panting in and out like a freight train trying to do as Sam asks, sucking in deep pulls of air, his body rigid and trembling, the burn in his ass too intense, the fucking dick shoved up inside him so huge, so _long_, filling him up and he can't take it, he thought he could but he can't and Sam needs to get the fuck out of him!

He feels Sam's fingers rubbing over his skin, tenderly touching his belly, his ribs, caressing, and he hears the soft voice muttering in rhythm to the strokes, "It's ok, It'll be alright. It's ok…"

And the voice works on him, soothing him, and _thank Christ,_ finally, he feels himself release and Sam must feel it, too because he's sliding in slow, stopping every once in a while to let Dean breathe and relax, giving his brother time to open up, fighting for every inch, earning his right to claim Dean.

At last, Sam hits home, buried deep and Dean can feel the wiry hair against him, Sam's balls tight up against him and he squirms, wiggling around the stiff cock shoved up inside him, struggling to relax-

Sam gives a sharp inhale at Dean's fidgeting, and Dean can feel Sam's dick pulse deep in him, and he watches Sam fight for control of his own desire. When Sam comes back, he's calm and deliberate, pulling himself almost all the way back out of Dean and easing back in slow and steady, and does it again, opening Dean wider with each inward thrust, stretching him out, wrenching him open. Dean hangs on tight, gripping Sam's shoulders, breathing painfully through each hip jerk as Sam slides back out and in, a little faster now, smacking on home and Dean is so fucking filled up that he can barely stand it. In and out, his ass stretches and releases, clinging tight around Sam's dick and they're in a nice rhythm now and-

Sam pulls back and thrusts in deep and fast, pulling up on Dean's hips so he can get in deeper and the bolt of electricity that shoots through Dean's belly catches him by surprise, leaving him trembling and gasping, not sure what the hell he just felt but liking it and wanting more. He grabs at Sam's hips, pulling him back and shit, there it is again! The flare of red fire, the spark of white heat and he's bucking up, meeting Sam thrust for thrust, guttural noises deep in his chest as Sam shoves in rough and hard.

"God, Sam! So fucking _good_! Harder...please...just...shit! That fucking spot you're hitting! Jesus, there!"

And Dean doesn't even feel himself climbing up towards orgasm this time, suddenly, it's there, right there and he's bucking and swaying, jerking and shuddering, graying out and exploding all over himself and Sam, God bless him, doesn't even try to stop him this time. Dean can't even recover before his cock is spurting out more, his stomach rocked with spasms, his balls tightly drawn up and his seed, Christ, all over him, still coming, won't ever stop and Jesus, if this is heaven, he wants to stay dead cause this is the best place in the world, right here…

Finally, finally, the orgasm stops but the aftershocks continue to roll through him, body waves trembling on through and he feels the wet on his face, knows it's tears but can't be embarrassed because Sam's seen all of him and it's ok, Sam'll love him anyway, and isn't that freaking awesome?

Sam is still shoving and pushing, jerking out and snapping back in and it still feels so _fine_ even though Dean can't even think about coming again for a while and he lets his hands trail over Sam's nipples, flicking them lightly before rolling them in between his fingertips and Sam's breath is harsh as he rocks forward once, then again and stiffens, his cock inside of Dean's ass throbbing and pulsing with climax. Dean feels the warmth spread through him as Sam erupts, emptying himself into Dean, pumping until there's nothing left and Sam's spent, exhausted.

Sam collapses on top of him, burying his face into Dean's neck and Dean hugs him close, huffing into Sam's shoulder, trying to get his own breathing under control and then just relaxing, enjoying the weight of Sam on top of him, the warm mouth nuzzling just below his jaw and the sound of harsh gasps panting in the air.

Finally, they've recovered enough to move and Sam pulls out, falling down next to Dean in a lump, curling his arm over Dean's chest and a leg over both of his, cuddling right into him. The dawn filters through the mist and they look at each other in the early morning light, studying each other's faces carefully before grinning at each other in unabashed delight.

Dean's caught up in Sam's dimples again, _God, his smile is so sweet, _wanting nothing more than to nuzzle into them but he'll bide his time. They have plenty of time.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes narrow as he sees the splotches of red on his chest. His brain slow and fuzzy, _that's blood is what that is,_ does a quick internal inventory and he knows he's not cut so it must be Sam and he scans his brother's body, spotting the long scratch, still open and oozing, even though it's mostly clotted now.

It's right across Sam's tattoo.

"Sammy? What the hell?" And his hand goes to the inked flesh, rubbing gently.

Sam looks down and shrugs, "I got caught on some picker bushes when I was running in here to help you and it ripped some skin, that's all. It'll be all healed up in a couple of days, Dean. No need to worry."

And Dean shrugs it off. Only a day or two and it'll be all healed.

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	10. Chapter 10

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_Drip…drip...drip..._

The sound is relentless, _fucking water_, and no matter how much Dean tries to ignore it, it's still there, constant, annoying, penetrating his brain and making him surface, dragging him up from the depths of unconsciousness. He fights it, knowing that going back into the light brings pain and fear and he wants to stay here, _damn it_, where it's warm and soft and dark. There's something holding him in place, stopping the sway of his body, and his hands are numb, asleep, needles picking into them as he tries to flex his wrists.

_Drip...drip_...

What the hell?

With a groan, he cracks open one eye and feels the nausea hit him full on, the dim light shooting daggers through his head and making him want to puke his guts out. His jaw is throbbing, matching the pounding of his heart, and he works open his mouth, hearing the crick of bone but it's not broken, thank Christ.

Dean lets his head loll backwards, taking in his situation at a glance and _shit_, this isn't good, not good at all. He's in one of the camp showers, his hands yanked above him, roped up tight to a shower head, facing the worn, damp cedar wall, the smell of wet wood clogging his nose, making him gag. He tastes the bitter copper of old blood in his mouth as he tests the binds holding him, hissing at the pain, his wrists already torn raw from hanging there for God knows how long, his shoulders burning, almost dislocated from the sockets. Nope, he's trussed up good and solid, no sway or give but no surprise there-

He'd taught his brother well and Sam always did have a particular fascination with knots.

#

They'd made their way back to the tent, collapsing next to each other, holding on tight and sleeping like the dead until well past noon, the fighting and loving of the night before having taken its toll on their exhausted bodies.

Dean wakes first, stretching, his limbs heavy, languid, more relaxed than he can ever remember being and he looks over at Sam who's still snoring, mouth open and drooling. Dean hitches himself up on an elbow and stares down at his brother, studying every curve of the familiar face, shell-shocked that Sam was able to break him apart so easy and bring him to his knees, terrified at how completely wide open and exposed he feels now. He's never been here before, raw and laid bare and he's so frigging scared he can hardly look at it full on. His heart is bursting full with both fear and love for Sam and it feels like it's going to explode out of his chest at any second. He'd do anything for Sam and now his brother _knows _it, knows everything inside of him and still loves him anyway and _holy shit_, that's a fucking scary ass thing.

He reaches out with a hand, stroking the long dark hair softly, remembering that mouth, those eyes glittering down, locked on his as Sam shoved into him, deep and fierce, filling him and bringing him right to the edge of the world.

Dean flexes his muscles…yup, sore as hell but the memories are already working on him, tickling at the edges of his brain, making his balls tingle with anticipation, arousing him to the point where he can't possibly go back to sleep until he takes care of some business and that business is starting to stand at attention now, almost purring at him as he rubs his hand against it.

But no, this part can wait. Pleasure first.

Slowly, he pulls down on the sleeping bag, uncovering Sam's naked body with hot lust, greedily eying the hard chest and the lean abdomen and further down…

Mmm…there it is.

That fucking sweet dick that brought him to ecstasy, making him lose his mind with passion in the steamy gush of orgasm. Dean looks down at it in wonder, a flash of sudden hunger has him licking his lips with need, with want and the heat surges up inside of him, too much, too _huge_ and he can't stop it, can't resist it. Even if he wanted to, the urge is too strong to fight and his heart gives a hard thump, almost painful and he catches his breath on it, barely recognizing the emotion he's feeling because it's old and unused, rusty and creaking and when it hits him, his eyes burn with the sudden sting of tears as he realizes what it is he's feeling.

Hope.

He doesn't _have_ to resist anymore, doesn't need to fight. No more trying to fill up the ache in his gut, the gaping hole in his heart that's always been waiting for Sam. Nope, he can have this anytime he wants, for now and always and _Jesus Christ_, that thought scares him more than any other because now, this has to be protected, ferociously guarded, with snapping jaws and bared teeth against anything that tries to hurt it or take it away.

He firms his jaw, his eyes glinting dangerously as he silently promises his brother, "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll take care of us, I swear."

He lets his gaze wander down the tan skin, the hard muscles and reaches out a shaking hand, tentative and careful, gently wrapping a palm around Sam's sleeping dick, slowly pulling up and down, lazy and soft, taking his time, dragging the skin back and forth. Sam's erection is swift and sudden, limp one second, rock hard and ready the next and Dean's left grinning at Sam's vigor. He moves down Sam's chest and belly, rubbing his cheek against the velvet skin of erection, feeling the warmth against his face, the scent of his brother familiar, almost painful, and a turn of his head brings his mouth _right there_ and he can't help himself, he has to taste. He licks around the slit with just the tip of his tongue, surprised at the clean flavor – Sam must've washed himself down because it's rain, mist and pine rolling over his taste buds, so fucking delicious and there's an after-touch of honey that catches on his brain and _holy shit_!

Dean gives one of Sam's thighs a gentle tug, opening his legs just enough to allow himself access and he climbs over, careful not to jostle and wake up his brother. He wedges himself in between and bends to give Sam's cock another swipe with his tongue, sliding around the tip in a sensual circle, the tang of it throwing his brain into overdrive and before he knows it, Dean's up on his knees, his lips sliding over the length of soft skin, going all the way down until he can't breathe, almost choking himself on it but it tastes so freaking delectable that he doesn't care. He wants Sam _all_ the way in, wants to touch his lips to the kinky hair at the base and Dean's impatient at his own weakness, _shit, can't fucking take it_, as he gives a grunt in his throat and slides back up again.

Breathe and dive back down, open up, relax the throat, let the tongue go loose and Dean gets a little further this time, taking a half inch more. He gives a little nod, _just a matter of will, that's all_, and pulls back up again, almost off, holding the tip in his mouth and sucking lightly. He starts his descent on a deep breath in, moving towards his target and swoops down fast, forcing himself and yes, it's working! When Dean raises his head, fingers in his hair are raking his scalp with rough nails and Sam's body beneath his mouth has come alive, trembling and rocking upwards, soft moans and mutters filling the tent, surrounding his head.

"_Jesus Christ_, Dean! Holy fuck, what're you-? God, that feels so _good_…you don't have to…mmmm….God, right there…right _there_…."

Sam's hips are moving up automatically, meeting his brother's downward lunge and the goal's in sight now…the thrust up of Sam's is giving Dean the boost he needs and finally, finally, he's got Sam all in and God, his throat's so full, so huge with the flavor of Sam that Dean's dizzy with it, swallowing fast, sucking him in.

"Mmmrph…" he mumbles and Sam gives an answering twitch of his hips, tightening his fingers in Dean's hair and pulling his head back up until just the tip is quivering inside Dean's hot mouth. Their eyes lock onto each other, Sam's half lidded, desire sparking through and his lower lip is caught between his teeth and Jesus, he's so fucking _gorgeous _that Dean's heart almost stops in his chest and they're suspended there in time, lost in each other's gaze, love pulsing between them. They both move at the same time, Sam urging Dean's mouth down and Dean eagerly dropping his head, taking Sam in deep, all the way in, starting to move back up slow and lazy, trying to make it last but Sam can't wait-.

Frantic now, Sam pulls up his brother's head and shoves in rough, fucking into Dean's warm, wet mouth, and Dean meets his brother thrust for thrust, moaning deep in his throat because Sam's taste is different each time, never the same and how is that even fucking possible, Sam's even more delicious than he was in the woods and _Christ_, Dean wants more-.

And so does Sam, yanking Dean's head down faster now, pushing up and in, deep and pounding, eyes falling closed, face screwed up with pleasure, with passion and Dean is just holding on, finally used to the size of Sam in his throat, able to swirl his tongue around now, lapping up the underside with each slide in.

"God, Dean, fucking _God_, man...your fucking hot _mouth_-"

Sam's hips are in overdrive, bucking up in a frenzy, his fingers clenched painfully in Dean's hair and one more pitch up and his cock throbs over Dean's tongue, pulsing, vibrating, hot liquid spurting against the roof of his mouth and Dean swallows fast, not wanting to lose any of the essence that's all Sam, salt and rain, sweat and honey, all rolling in on him. He drinks deep, the moaning in his own throat matching Sam's gasps of pleasure as his brother empties himself into Dean's willing mouth. He watches Sam's face, the twisted features deepening with the spasms rocking his body and eventually smoothing out, a look of peaceful rapture replacing the grimace and Sam's huffing out his breath, trying to calm the harsh sounds filling the tent, the wheezing and panting finally quieting into gentle gasps.

Sam stares down at Dean, his eyes warm with love and lust, "Dean, you-"

His words trail off and suddenly, Dean's yanked up onto Sam's chest and rolled over quickly, Sam growling next to his mouth sensuous and slow, "My turn."

And Dean's mouth is covered with a hot kiss, Sam's tongue sliding in and finding his, swirling around in an erotic circle before withdrawing swiftly and breaking away, looking into Dean's eyes with a shy smile, whispering softly, "Is that what I taste like?"

Dean stares earnestly up into Sam's gaze, "So fucking delicious, I can't get enough of you. This isn't good, man, not good at all. I can't stop touching you, tasting you…wanting you. It was supposed to get better when we-."

He trails off and Sam nods, finishing his sentence, "But, it's worse, right? Cause now we know and I just want more-"

He captures Dean's mouth again, pushing apart the soft lips and dipping in his tongue, slow at first, then diving in deep and probing, each slide sparking flicks of passion through Dean's belly, through his cock, until it's rising it up hard and solid. He can feel himself pushed up tight against Sam's crotch, his brother's hip bones rolling against his and he moans helplessly, the painful throb of erection along with Sam's kisses too much and he needs some serious help here!

He pulls away to huff in a breath, his whispered plea floating in the air between them, "Sammy, please-"

But Sam swoops back down, mumbling against his mouth before swallowing down his words, "God, Dean, your lips are so fucking…so…mmm…-"

And Sam's kiss is sizzling into him, burning him, hot tongue electrifying his own and jolting him, sparks and bursts of silver catching in his brain, pulling him into abyss and sweetly drowning him. Can't catch a breath and Dean's head is swirling, dizzy until all he can do is grip Sam's shoulders and lose himself in the touch, in the taste of his brother, letting Sam take the reins and tame the wild lust in him and he's whimpering, aching for Sam's touch on his dick, bumping up against his brother's crotch and rubbing himself shamelessly on that hot velvet cock above him.

Sam shifts off, earning a groan of disappointment from Dean that corkscrews into moans of pleasure as Sam's hand slides in between them, warm fist wrapping around the base of Dean's cock, squeezing tight and dragging up, slow and gentle, making Dean bite his lip to try to stop the flow of helpless sounds he's making, the stuttering and gasping making him sound like a girl instead of a fierce warrior and _shit_, that's goddamn embarrassing is what that is-

Sam's thumb begins circling the tip with each upward pull, scraping against the underside with each downward drag, the sensitive vein there shooting waves of pleasure through Dean with the scratch of Sam's fingernail as the slip-slap of hand on dick mixes with the moans and gasps Dean hears coming out of himself, rhythm matching the jerking of Sam's wrist and his hips are bucking up of their own accord, meeting Sam on the downward slide and so sweet, so fucking _sweet_-

"Shit, Sam, that's it, right there….fuck, that's-"

The hot mouth on his earlobe now, huffing moist whispers in his ear, on his skin, making him twitch with yearning, feeling the small hairs on his neck rise up in response and a shiver rocks through him as Sam nips at him, his sharp teeth biting along his neck and throat now, sucking against his flesh, marking him. Sam rasps his teeth along Dean's unshaven jaw, the whiskers stiff and unyielding, licks of desire flicking through Dean's belly at the sensation and by the time Sam hums against him, vibrating through him as he works his way down to a nipple, Dean is trembling, rocking up towards Sam's mouth, moaning low in his chest.

Sam pulls and tugs on Dean's dick with his hot palm and Dean's straining up, hips jerking and bucking into Sam's hand as the fiery tongue licks and sucks over Dean's nipples, moving from one to the other until Dean can't get a breath, can't get a fucking gasp in because his nerves are dancing and jumping, his body can't stay still, it's thrumming with pleasure, moving towards nirvana, going higher and higher. The heat roils and rumbles in his belly, flames in his groin as his balls tighten and Sam had just better _let _him this time, not even try to stop him because no more games, no more shit-

Higher, faster, buck and rock, up into that tight hand and the fire spreads out now, busting wide open and he breaks, body rigid and jerking, spasms rolling through him and he's shooting all over Sam's hand, spurting out in long ropes and Sam's mouth is there, catching and drinking, sucking his load out of him and Christ, that feels so _fucking nice_ and he pumps into the hot wet of Sam's lips until he's done, falling backwards in exhaustion, in relief and Sam licks him clean, swirling his tongue over and down, lapping up every last drop while Dean gasps for air, aftershocks jolting through him with each suck of Sam's mouth.

He reaches down to caress Sam's hair, tiredly whispering, "All done, Sammy…no more…" and Sam lets go of his dick with a small pop and puts his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers clean of Dean's come, one by one, tongue sliding along each while Dean watches, mouth hanging open at the erotic sight before him and it's so-

Fucking hot, blistering him, burning the image into his brain and he can barely speak, able to stutter only a lame, "_Christ_, Sam, that's –" before his mind completely shuts down.

"Mmmm, delicious is what that is…" Sam smiles at him, sucking the last of it into his mouth before bending to kiss him softly, pushing in his tongue so Dean can taste himself and then he pulls back, "See?"

And Sam gives a deep sigh, a satisfied look on his face as he curls up next to Dean, pulling up the blanket and loping an arm over his brother's chest before cuddling into Dean's shoulder. Dean rolls to face him, pushing him on his back, and scoots up close, laying his head on Sam's chest, needing to feel Sam's heartbeat under his cheek. He closes his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm, strong and thumping and mumbles against Sam's skin, drowsy now, feeling sleep take him as Sam's arm tightens around him and a kiss touches his forehead.

"Love you…." He trails off into slumber and Sam cuddles him in closer, kissing him again before whispering, "Love you, too…"

#

When they awake, twilight is moving in, graying out everything in its wake, turning the world shimmery, fuzzy around the edges, the still air expectant with anticipation. It's time to summon up some ghosts.

#

The candles flicker in the night, the night breeze blowing the flames into claws, waxing and waning to the cadence of Sam's voice as he chants the ancient words, mixing the oils and herbs together in sequence, stirring slowly and deliberately as he speaks, gesturing over the bowl as the incantation gets louder, more vibrant.

Dean stares at him in the dark, handing him what he needs at the right time, watching the sparks fly into the night as Sam adds in the vervain and pepper, taken from the stock kept in the Impala and stirs the bowl the final three times. He pours the liquid into a circle of salt, calling the spirit of Laurie's mother, summoning her to come inside the circle and as the fire flares inside the salt, a figure writhes in the center and Sam ties knots into a rope, seven in all, tossing it into the circle to bind the spirit to it. The flame flares out and Sam bends to pick up the rope, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"Is it done? Do we have her?" Dean asks.

"Done." Sam mutters and turns away.

Lightening flashes overhead and a rumble of thunder sounds ominously, growling across the night sky. Sam looks up into the dark clouds overhead and Dean puts a hand on his arm, "You want to wait in the car? I can probably take care of Laurie."

Sam gives him a curious look, "What for?"

"Well…the storm..."

Sam shrugs, turns and walks towards the car, hefting the rope in one hand, "Don't worry about it, Dean. I'm good."

A flicker of unease touches the back of Dean's neck as he gathers up the bowl and herbs. He circles around to the back of the car and opens the trunk, tossing the items into a small box and shutting it tight, rooting around for a moment longer before he slams the trunk down with a bang.

Sam is behind him, eyes shining down at him in the dark, "Ready?"

Dean nods, "Let's do this."

And Sam's face is looming over him suddenly as a searing pain jolts through his head, blinding him and _Fuck, that hurts_, and he's falling, falling down into darkness.

#


	11. Chapter 11

#

_drip...drip...drip_

Frigging dripping is gonna drive him crazy before he has a chance to figure out how to get the hell out of this situation.

The moon is the only light, shining in through the door, drawing long shadows on the musty wood in front of Dean and glinting off the metal shower heads lining the wall he's facing. He's near the doorway, tied to the middle nozzle and as far as he can tell, he's alone, no Sam in sight and he's gotta get free, go find Sam and figure out what the hell's going on. He works his wrists around to get the blood going, the pins and needles shooting through, stabbing into him but at least the hands are almost usable again. The pounding in his head has eased to a dull throb, his jaw still sore as hell but as far as he can feel, he's still got all of his teeth which is always a good thing.

The lonely sound of a hoot owl wafts through the doorway, the cicadas and crickets adding to the chorus and under that, Dean can hear the crackle of brushwood snapping, the rustle of leaves being pushed aside and finally, the heavy thump of boots tramping over twigs and moss coming closer to where he is.

Shit! His mind shoots into overdrive.

Ok, what the hell? Something got to Sam, that's clear, but question is, what? Dean's mind jumps over the possibilities - demon, shape shifter, remnant, ghost or something else? That damn scratch across Sam's anti-possession tattoo, it's gotta be the reason – and he was summoning the spirit of Mrs. Campbell so chances are it's either her or an errant spirit who, at the right place and the right time, decided to make a break for it when Sam opened the portal.

Dean frantically does a mental once over of his body, rubbing one leg against the other to check. Good. His gun's gone but he's still got his baby Bowie knife tucked inside his boot and the other item, the only thing he'd been able to grab from the trunk of the car before Sam hit him, is still a lump in his front jeans pocket. Now, he just needs a break…and to become a contortionist to get his fucking leg up high enough to get to his knife.

He checks the ropes again, testing them for weak spots, tugging and rolling them around the shower head, working the hemp against the metal. Sweat's rolling down his face, trickling down the middle of his back and it's good because now it's breaking out all over his body and he can use it to his advantage. Lubrication makes movement, even small movement, easier and if he can get his wrists rolling around inside the rope using sweat, he can loosen it up and get free.

"You're awake."

Dean jumps in his skin, craning his neck around to see Sam, his face shadowed from the moonlight flickering in behind him, shoulders filling the doorway. Sam's arm moves and a second later, a click is followed by light in his eyes, making him squint against the lonely bulb swinging from the ceiling. Sam reaches up to check the ropes, making sure they're good and tight and looks down at Dean, giving him a sweet smile before he steps back behind him.

"What are we doing here, Sammy?" he asks his brother hoarsely, carefully, twisting his head to see Sam's face.

"Come on, Dean. You and I both know I'm not Sam."

Dean closes his eyes, fear for Sam jumping into his throat but he can't let it show, can't let the thing see his weakness, "Well, let's just say I was really hoping to talk to him. Is he in there with you?"

"He's pushed back." Sam's voice is different, younger, breathy and soft, and his words have a slight lisp.

"Are you…Mrs. Campbell?"

"Momma couldn't come out. She got stuck in the rope he was holding but he couldn't catch _me_." Sam giggles behind his hand, "He didn't even know I was there and I slipped right on through, was gonna keep going but got stopped." Sam's hand goes to his chest, "In here."

"Laurie…it's Laurie, isn't it?" Dean's straining to look over his shoulder and, seeing Sam nod his head, starts to talk fast, trying to connect, to reason with the spirit, "You need to get out of Sam. We can help you get to where you're supposed to be but right now, you're hurting Sam and I know you really don't want to hurt him, right? He's never done anything to you, has he? He and I are here to protect you-"

"He wants to stop me and so do you. What do you think, I'm stupid or something? I know why you're here. You want to save that _bitch_!"

"Laurie, we can't let you keep killing people. You already got the men that hurt you, isn't that enough? I mean, why do you want to hurt Mrs. Stowe? She tried to help you. She called the cops when you disappeared from the bar…"

"She didn't try to help me! She was fucking my father! He was in the back room of the bar that night, with her, and my mom was crying and carrying on when I finally got her on the phone…and that whore went in back to tell my dad I was there, so whatever she told you was a lie! I know! I know it all now!"

Tears pool up in Sam's eyes and Dean can see the girl's face laying on top of his brother's, transparent and glassy, superimposed over Sam's features and her face works with emotion as the memories flood back through her.

"My dad told my mom everything that night – he'd been cheating on her for months with that slut and he wanted a divorce so _they_ could get married. When my mom told me what happened, I should have gone in the back and confronted them both but I was so scared, I couldn't think straight and I just wanted to get to my mom, you know? I ran outside, I could barely see where I was going I was crying so hard and I was trying to get home. Those men at the bar…they were right behind me and they grabbed me, pulled me into the car and took me. The two in the back seat were running their filthy hands all over me, kissing me-all I could smell was the whiskey on their breath and aftershave…they all stank with it, like they could cover up their awful smell if they used enough of it."

Sam continued, his voice rising up an octave, "They wouldn't let me go, even though I begged them to…no, they just kept telling me what they were going to do to me as soon as they found a place. I started fighting back, scratching at their faces, biting, hitting and kicking – anything I could do to get them off me. One of them tied by hands behind my back with a belt and the other one pulled off my underwear and stuffed it in my mouth. I couldn't breathe very well and the one I scratched slapped me across the face, over and over and then-."

Laurie's face shows pain, confusion and Sam's hand flutters to his forehead, massaging it, "I g-got mixed up and I think I passed out because the next thing I knew, I was on my knees in the shower and one of them was shoved up inside me and another was in my mouth and there are hands everywhere, hurting me, pinching and twisting me. The one inside me was breathing in my ear, telling me how much I liked it and what a hot fuck I was and then he groaned and I _felt_ him shooting off and the one in my mouth did, too, wanted me to swallow but I couldn't. I started puking up on him and he pulled out, and it went all over my face and then he grabbed me by the hair and tolds me to lick him clean or he's gonna slit my throat. I tried to do what he said but the taste made me throw up again and that just got him madder so he told the next guy behind me to 'do it in my ass' cause I'd be nice and tight there and then…one man was in front of me pushing into my mouth and the one behind me…h-hurting me-"

Sam is crying now, tears rolling down his cheeks, chest heaving, trying to hold it in but he can't and he wipes away the snot from his nose, "G-God, it hurt so bad and I was s-screaming for him to stop but he didn't s-stop…why wouldn't he stop? He-he ripped me apart…"

_Jesus Christ, this poor kid._ Dean's muscles are tense, rigid, wanting to tear the men limb from limb for her, his protective nature rearing up harsh and red in his mind before he remembers - she's dead and so are the mother fuckers that hurt her and he can't help them but Sam- Sam is still in danger and so is the happily married couple that Laurie's currently gunning for-_think, Dean, think!_

He keeps his voice steady, calm, trying to win her trust, "Listen, Laurie, what happened to you was…Christ, it was horrible and awful and those men should have had their dicks cut off and fed to them. Killing was too good for them and if I had been you, I would've probably taken them out in a lot worse ways than you did – made them suffer more, you know? But this is your dad you're talking about killing here and the woman your dad, uh, loves. Now you may not agree with his choices and you may not like Mrs. Stowe but she doesn't deserve killing."

Harsh hands on his back shove him face first into the cedar wall, his cheek smashing up against the wet wood and he's barely able to breathe, the pungent smell filling his head even as he hears Sam's voice in his ear, hissing viciously, "If my dad had been home, he would have come to get me and I'd still be alive. He should have been _home, _not fucking that _bitch_!"

At the last word, Sam yanks his collar and slams him back into the wall, getting a groan of pain out of Dean and Sam's voice is cold now, deadly venom spitting from his lips, "They deserve killing the most."

"Laurie…listen, I understand how you feel…" Dean begins, his voice muffled from where his mouth is crammed into the wall.

"NO, YOU DON'T!" Sam suddenly screams at him, "You don't understand a FUCKING thing!"

Suddenly, he's released from the wall, the hands on his back gone and an eerie silence fills the air around him. He twists his head to look back at Sam and a thrill of fear shoots through his belly at the look on his brother's face. The spirit face, on top of Sam's, is puzzled, confused, looking down at Sam's body in bewilderment and Dean flicks his eyes to where Laurie is looking. _Fuck_, Sam's getting a hard-on, the material over his crotch growing and tenting out, dick starting to stand at attention-

"What the-?" a whisper reaches Dean's ears and he slants his eyes back up, catching Sam's gaze and, as Dean watches, a knowing look settles on the ghost's features, the evil smirk on Sam's lips making Dean's knees tremble. _Shit, she knows…._

"You and Sam have been very bad boys, Dean. I can feel everything your brother feels and do you know what he wants to do to you now? Right now? He wants to fuck you – not normal but take you, against your will, hard and fast and screaming, ripping into you until you lose control, until you're thanking him for what you get and begging him for more. Did you know your brother wants to rape you? I bet you didn't. He can't even admit it to himself, the poor fucked up bastard. I should let him do that to you…then you'd know how I felt…then you'd understand finally, wouldn't you? You'd know the fear, the pain, the hurt when you're torn apart and left for dead."

Sam steps forward, smoothing a hand over Dean's ass cheek, making him twitch forwards at the touch, "They left me like a pile of trash on the floor of that shower, naked and bleeding, barely able to crawl, much less walk and I died there. I watched my blood leaking out of me, through the floor boards of a stinking, shit-hole of a camp shower and I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch myself die."

The voice behind Dean is quaking with pent-up rage, "I want you to know how it feels to be so helpless."

Sam's hands grip both of his ass cheeks now, squeezing and pulling, palms hot and burning through the denim of Dean's pants. Even though Laurie says that's what Sam wants, Dean knows Sam would never let himself hurt Dean, even if he did want to and Dean's honest enough to admit those feelings are inside of himself as well. Where Sam is concerned, all decency and lightness is shoved to the side and Dean knows the wild part of him, the feral animal living inside that wants to bite and mark Sam as his, wants to shove his dick up inside Sam so hard, his brother screams with pleasure, begs for mercy and falls to his knees pleading for more.

And truth be told, it fucking turns him on thinking that Sam wants to do the same thing to him.

It's not rape at all. It's the life of a hunter, _their_ life as it's always been, pain and violence, taking pleasure wherever they can and needing no one, nothing, except each other.

It's basic, untamed and raw, owning for a few moments in time, claiming, possessing, controlling, and hurting. It's power over another, Sam giving and Dean taking, pure and clean, dirty and stark, an ugly beauty that rips at the soul even as it fills it up.

It's love.

Hands are on his hips now, gripping him, pulling him backwards, Sam's crotch is pressed against his ass, dick hard and straining and the young, soft voice continues behind him, "Can you feel how much your brother wants you? Even when he's pushed back, his body still reacts to you, like he can't help himself. It's hard for me to concentrate because of this-"

Dean feels Sam behind him, solid and huge and _Christ_, Dean's body is responding and even though he fights against it, he feels himself grow hard in his jeans, the denim not giving an inch, constricting him, restraining him.

"Please…don't do this…" he whispers brokenly, struggling to stop his erection, stop the steamy flickers of lust shooting through his stomach and _damn his fucking dick anyway_!

Suddenly fingers are reaching around, scrabbling at his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, sliding inside his jeans to cup his cock with a hot palm through his underwear, squeezing painfully and Dean groans, shifting and doing his damndest _not_ to respond but it's useless, it's Sam's hand and his body knows that touch, _craves _that touch. Before Dean can stop himself, he's rubbing up against those fingers, head falling forward and eyes closing, shame washing over him.

His jeans and shorts are tugged down, baring him to the night air, pulled down to just under his ass and Dean spreads his legs slightly to hold them up, so they don't fall farther, trying to think ahead, to think past _this,_ where he can maybe get free and he can't have pants around his ankles restricting his movements…

The sizzling fist is back around his dick, working him up and down, dragging the flesh with a flick of the wrist until he's jerking and trembling with desire, and filled with self-loathing at his own weakness. The rasp of a zipper behind him has him tensing up and the bump of velvet skin on him, poking into an ass cheek, has him pleading.

"Don't! Sammy – if you're in there and you can hear me, you gotta take control, man!"

"He can hear you but he wants this. You shouldn't beg…when you beg, it just makes them hurt you more."

Hands on his ass cheeks are spreading him wide, nudging his legs apart and when Dean resists, fingers reach around and grip him, pulling open his legs and shoving in between so he's straddling Sam's firm thigh, feeling the muscles bunch under his dick and against his ass.

"Wait! Please-" Dean's twisting, tugging on the ropes above him, trying to get free, to get away, "Sammy, I know you're in there and you can hear me! Snap out of this, man! I need your help!"

Dean thrusts his pelvis forward, sliding off Sam's leg and jumping down and off, thudding into the wall in front of him but Sam's right behind him, iron grip tightening on his hips and pulling them back, fingers digging in to bruise his flesh. One hand shoves down on Dean's back, bending him forward, forcing him down so his ass is exposed, jutting out and ready for taking, "Sam, please!"

Sam spreads him open, hard dick pressing into him, no lube and oh, shit, this is gonna fucking hurt like hell and Dean takes a deep breath, trying to relax so he doesn't get ripped apart and closes his eyes on the pain he knows is coming-

Sam's body starts to shake where he's pressed up against Dean, the hands on him flexing and flailing, losing their hold and gripping again in quick succession and Dean cranes his head back, trying to figure out what's going on and sees-

Sam's face and Laurie's face, one and then the other, then swirling together, Sam's voice hard and desperate, "NO!" and Laurie's soft tone, "You can't stop me, Sam…"

And Sam meets Dean's panicked eyes, just for a moment but it stretches out to a lifetime, spurring Sam on, gives him brute force of will for one tiny second but it's enough to take control, take back what's his and Sam sets his jaw, a look of determination lighting his eyes and Dean loves him more right then than he ever has before.

Sam's body is shaking as he tries to stay in control, as he shoves away from Dean with all the strength he can muster and does the only thing he has time to do-

Sam lunges forward, cranking on the faucets to the shower Dean is huddling under, ripping the ones next to him open as well, drenching Dean, creating a wall between them and Laurie gives a scream of pure rage. Dean can hear someone kicking and pounding on the building behind him, an animal growling and snarling in frustration-

What the hell? Dean's baffled until he remembers what Sam already realized, that moving water is cleansing, pure and represents life at its deepest level and evil spirits, no matter how strong or how cunning, cannot cross it.

He doesn't waste another moment but grabs hold of the shower head above him, pulling himself up and climbing up the wall with his feet, bending himself almost in half, trying to get to his knife. He hooks a foot over the shower head, holding onto it with one hand and using the other hand to scrabble against his leg, trying to get his pant leg up so he can get to the fucking handle which bobbles just out of his reach, for Christ's sake!

Dean holds himself there, yanking desperately at the denim, pulling frantically because he can't breathe, lungs squashed from being bent into pretzel form and he relaxes down, lets himself hang back for a second, huffing in deep pulls of air before he's up again, hunching himself into a ball and working the jean around his leg, pushing it up and grabbing the handle, fingers finally getting hold of the knife and tugging it free with a cry of relief. He lets himself hang for one more second to get a breath before he's pulling himself back up and slicing through the rope (and a hunk of wrist at the same time). Two more saws of the knife and Dean's falling to the ground with a hard thump, landing on a bare hip and he rolls, bounding onto his feet and yanking up his pants in one smooth move before his brain even registers the flare of pain from his fall.

He digs in his pocket, coming up with the iron key he nabbed from the Impala's trunk and dives through the water, towards Sam, towards the spirit possessing him but when he sputters the drops away from his eyes, shaking his head to see, he's alone and the woods stretch out before him, quiet except for the owl screeching in the pines.

#

Where the fuck is he?

Disoriented, Dean searches the trees, trying to identify anything in the dark woods but one shower looks just like another and if he chooses the wrong direction, he's screwed. He spins, looking around, spots the glitter of water through the trees, the moonlight dancing on it-

S_torm musta cleared up cause the sky is cloudless now_-

And runs towards it, tripping over felled branches and mossy tufts, finally thumping up onto the beach and stops, scanning the sand up one side and down the other and there! Wasn't that where he and Sam went swimming the first day? He jogs over to it and yes, he recognizes the turn of beach, the crooked pines where Sam changed into his suit and he backtracks swiftly, hitting the road running, making a bee-line for their campgrounds. Ten minutes later, he's skidding into their site, searching frantically for the Impala, for Sam but nothing – the car's gone and Sam is too.

He spies it on the ground a second later, the rope with the seven knots tied into it and snatches it up, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket he pulled from the tent, grabbing at his cell phone in the other pocket, thumbing it open and feverishly dialing Sam's number. No answer.

_Shit, Goddamn and Fuck!_

He needs wheels. Dean goes back up to the road, jogging by camp sights until he spots what he's looking for, an unattended car, an empty fire pit and darkened tent. Pay dirt! He tries the handle and yes, unlocked and he closes his eyes in relief, opening the door silently and sliding in, reaching under the dash for the ignition wires and stripping them quick, touching and getting a spark until the motor turns over with a purr. He shuts the door, quiet as he can, pressing the gas to ease the car onto the road, trying not to waken the owners and raise an alarm up. Once he's clear of the camp site, he guns the engine, getting the hell out of there and speeding towards Mrs. Stowe's house as fast as he can.

#

**8:50 p.m.**

Dean eases the car into the driveway, pulling up behind the Impala and scanning the area quickly, staring up at the house, dark and foreboding. He gets out quietly, shutting the door lightly behind him and creeps up to his car, looking long enough to find out its empty before he climbs in through the open driver side window, not wanting the creak of door to give away his position. He feels around under the seat for his shotgun and pops open the glove compartment for his pistol, making sure both are loaded and ready. He palms another clip and grabs Sam's mojo bag, slipping it all into his jacket pocket, along with a flask of holy water, before he hoists himself back out the window onto the pavement.

On silent feet, Dean runs to the side of the house, putting his back flush against it before moving around to the front windows, glancing in fast before pulling back. Through the sheer curtains, he sees Sam standing in front of two people who are wrapped in each others arms, holding on tightly. Shit, they look scared to death. He works his way back around the side of the house and slides to the back, looking for another way in and there it is, kitchen window wide open. He pulls off the screen, lowering it carefully to the ground and hops in, pulling himself over the sill and sink, climbing to the floor and easing over to the doorway.

"Come on in, Dean. We've been waiting for you."

Damn. Well, so much for the element of surprise. He walks in, staring at the two people clutching each other and nods at them, "You both ok?"

Harriet Stowe gives him a look like he's a freaking idiot and snaps at him, "Of course we're not ok! He wants to kill us…"

Dean rounds on Sam who's drawing a bead on him through the site of his own sawed-off, one eye closed, a smile playing on his lips. When he sees Dean's look, he shrugs, lisping in Laurie's voice, "I won. Gun on the floor, please and push it over here."

A flicker of fear rolls through his stomach as he drops the shotgun, nudging it over with his toe, "Is Sam still-?"

"Yes, but he's not in charge now. I am. You and I can play later, take care of unfinished business after I get rid of these two. Have a seat, Dean. Over there." The gun motions to one of the high-back chairs in each corner of the living room.

"Sure but I just wanted to tell you – I've got your mom here." and he pulls the rope out of his jacket pocket, "Didn't know if you wanted to say 'hi'".

And he swings wide, catching Sam across the face with it, whipping his head around and before Sam can recover, Dean's hand is on the gun, scrambling for it, yanking and tugging on the barrel, forcing it down so it doesn't fire wild and with his other hand, he hits against Sam's stomach, shoving up under his shirt and grinding the iron key he's gripping against the mangled tattoo.

With a pained cry, Sam drops the gun and rips at his shirt, shouldering Dean back and away but Dean hangs on, letting loose the shotgun and grabbing Sam behind the neck, holding him in a steely grip, forcing the key deep into his chest and his chest is burning, smoking, the charred smell of flesh filling Dean's nose until a shriek crashes against his ears and Laurie rises, twisting and writhing out of Sam's body and Sam sags back and down, falling to his knees-

Dean fumbles in his pocket, tugging out Sam's mojo pouch, pouring out the herbs Sam mixed before and chanting the incantation out of the small book he's holding. Christ, he hopes he's doing it right because this is Sam's thing and for all he know, he could be releasing the mother into the air…

"No! Noooo!" Laurie screams as she feels the pull of the spell but it's not enough, she's not being bound, looks like all he's doing is holding her in place and Dean doesn't know what the fuck's _wrong_ so he just keeps reading the damn thing over and over again.

"Candle…" Sam gasps weakly and Dean falls to his knees, fumbling out the small white candle from the mojo bag-

_Please, just one more second-_

Yanking out his lighter and flicking it into a flame-

_Hurry, hurry-_

Touching fire to wick just as Laurie flies at him, her ghostly hand touching Dean's chest and moving through him, a millisecond before the candle lights and she's bound to the rope.

Dean can still hear her screaming in his ears as his heart starts to tighten in his chest, _can't breathe, can't breathe_, lungs are water, dense, full, heart slowing down, pounding out a throb every few seconds instead of steady like it's supposed to, slower now...

He can hear it in his head, the thumping so few and far between it's almost stopped altogether and his vision is narrowing to a tunnel, staring up at Sam's worried face and it's dark now, so dark that he can't even find Sam anymore and the only sound he hears is his labored breathing-

#

"Dean!" Sam is holding his brother, hugging him close to his chest, rocking him like a baby, "Dean, please…please..."

Tears roll down his cheeks as he pets Dean's hair, laying a kiss on his brother's forehead, and the couple standing behind him hear Sam's muttered prayer in between sobs, "Don't leave me, Dean...please don't leave me..."

#


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Ok, this chapter ended up being extremely long so I broke it up into two. Next chapter is finished and will be posted tonight or tomorrow :D

#

#

The screaming is driving Sam crazy.

It's a guy, he thinks, keening out a dark, horrible wail, so miserable and forlorn that it flicks through Sam's mind that somebody really ought to help the poor bastard out but Sam can't right now because he's busy, holding Dean as hard and as tight as he can, giving his own warmth, his own strength so that Dean will live.

Sam feels it happen, feels the life ebb out of his brother…the haze sliding over the sparkling green eyes, the slack droop that covers the soft lips he's kissed so often and Sam's mind cracks, breaks, shatters into a million pieces until he can't put one logical thought in front of another.

He needs to do something, to keep moving, _can't catch me if I keep moving _and so he rocks Dean back and forth, fierce arms hugging his brother close to his chest, burying his face in Dean's neck and inhaling the familiar scent. He tastes the sweet skin, the flavor mixing with his salty tears and wishing that the stupid shrieking would stop, for _Christ's sake_, because it's rocketing around in his brain and making his heart and head pound with nausea, with dizziness.

Hands are there suddenly, fighting him, pulling on Dean, trying to take him and NO! Sam fights back hard, hanging onto his brother for dear life, snarling, baring his teeth up at the shadows, his rage and tears making seeing impossible.

His head is whipped around with a zinging slap, the blow cracking against his cheek, making his ears ring and his face lights up with fire. His vision clears, focuses on a woman, squatting in front of him, yelling at him, shaking his shoulders and drawing back a hand-

He feels the hard smack as it rocks him backwards, the slashing burn on his other cheek flaring into his brain, _hurts, hurts_ and he shakes his head against it, the wailing behind him stopping abruptly, his mind sharpening, bringing him back, bringing him _here, now_. It had been _him _screaming, Sam suddenly realizes, and his throat burns like brushfire, picking and cracking when he tries to swallow.

"Let me have him!" The woman yells in his face, spit raining on his nose and cheeks as she pulls and pries at his fingers, loosening his grip and pulling Dean away, dragging him onto the floor, splaying him out. The man scrambles to help, crouching at Dean's head and the woman hovers at his chest, her back to Sam, shoulders moving up and down in rhythm and when Sam crawls over to see, the man's blowing breath into his brother's mouth and the woman is shoving down on Dean's chest forcing blood through his body.

CPR, he thinks dimly, they're doing CPR…trying to save Dean…

Sam slumps at Dean's feet, _al__l his fault, __al__l his fault_, unable to do anything but stare at the couple as they work on his brother's unresponsive body. The woman's eyes lock on his, her gray hair shaking with her movements, her expression fierce and pissed off as she snarls out, "Don't just sit there like an idiot – call 911!"

Her voice cuts through his stupor, stopping it cold, yanking him back and Sam lunges for his cell phone, dialing feverishly.

#

The ambulance ride is a blur, sirens howling, red and blue lights flashing too bright in his eyes as he watches the paramedic hook up an IV line and a heart monitor, readying the defibrillator paddles in case Dean's heart decides to stop again.

Mrs. Stowe had gotten a pulse after 2 minutes and Dean had started breathing on his own soon after that. The ambulance had gotten there seven minutes later and Dean hadn't opened his eyes, not once, his face grey and limp, chest barely rising with his shallow breath. Sam had called her a liar, sure in his heart, in his gut that Dean was dead and Mrs. Stowe had dragged him over, shoving his fingers into Dean's neck so Sam could feel the slow thump of Dean's heart.

He'd felt two solid thuds against his index finger and flung himself away, grabbing the nearest waste basket and heaving up his guts into it. With shaking hands, Sam had wiped his mouth, thanking every God in every name he could think of that Dean was alive, sure with every thud of his own heart that Dean would be taken away again and he would be alone.

#

He'd phoned Bobby, babbling almost incoherently, sitting alone in the dim cold of the waiting room, sipping the piss-warm sludge the vending machine was calling coffee, having paced a panicked tread along the floor before slumping into a rock-hard chair, icy fear gripping his heart.

Bobby's short clipped sentences had brought him back to sane for a few seconds, getting out of him that he didn't know squat yet and the fucking doctors weren't telling him a _fucking_ thing…

He'd hung up, looked around, rubbing his hands along his thighs to wipe off the sweat, the clammy shake of them, trying to tell himself it'd be ok, Dean would be ok but he'd found himself moving again, soothing himself by rocking back and forth, hugging himself for warmth.

Green walls and pink chairs, speckled paintings on the wall flecked with both colors, very _feng shui_, carefully chosen to be restful, relaxing but all it makes Sam want to do is puke his guts out again, this time all over the white tile floor at his feet.

Finally,_ fucking_ _fin__al__ly_, the doctor had emerged, her face weary but hopeful and told him Dean was going to be ok. Her words faded in and out after that, the blood roaring around in his head, his own heart hammering back into rhythm, flooding his body with warmth and light. The ridiculous sting of tears behind his eyelids mix with the dark laughter bubbling up in his chest and his knees are weak, trembly, slippery as water and barely able to hold his weight as the hysteria he'd been forcing down rises up and lets loose, wild and black.

"Doc, that's…" he can't stop it and out it comes, harsh laughter and whooping sobs at the same time and she's making him sit, shoving his head down between his knees until he can breathe without gasping, speak without the violent tremors racking through his body, fucking _think_ a coherent thought again.

When he's better, under control, he whispers "Can I see him?"

Barely waiting for her to finish nodding at him, Sam's off and running, slipping and sliding down the hall to the ER doors, busting on through and pulling back curtains in every cubby, the nurse's frantic "Sir, Sir!" following him as he lopes along. He gives a pull to another drape and there's Dean, pale and shrunken against the white sheets but alive, staring at him, the lamps in his eyes flaring up when he sees Sam burst in. Sam takes two steps and falls down next to Dean on the bed, gripping his shoulders tight and pulling him close, feeling the heat of his brother's body flow into him and his lips are on Dean's in a heartbeat, kissing his breath away.

#

It's been three days since Dean got hurt, three long drawn out days, stark white walls, cardboard food and bitter coffee, sleeping fitfully in a chair next to his brother's bed, a permanent ache in his spine, watching Dean sleep, watching Dean breathe, berating himself for how much this whole fucking thing is his fault.

When he thinks back to that night…

He tries to make himself relive it but his brain shuts down, reverses and leaves him shaking and ready to hurl, half-formed images shooting through his mind, a jumble of thoughts and feelings, too many to sort out and one thing keeps repeating over and over again in his brain-

_…now Dean knows…._

He bites his lip hard to hold back the sob of despair that washes over him. Sam had been awake, aware, witnessing every second, every detail when that spirit was inside him and he tried, _goddamn it_, he'd tried so hard to hide from her, to stop her from seeing and he'd been successful, he'd been doing it, she'd only touched the surface and then-

She'd shoved Dean up against the wall and the _noise_ he'd made…_Jesus_…

The helpless moan, almost a grunt-whimper, had spoken right to Sam's dick, waking it up before Sam even knew what hit him and all his walls, all his defenses scattered and she'd been right there, seizing the opportunity, clawing at his brain, opening up his heart until she'd bared him, exposing everything.

She learned all his secrets in the blink of an eye, in the throb of an erection and God help him, he couldn't stop her from spewing it out into the air, couldn't stop the foul words she spoke, the hurting, ripping fingers on his brother's skin, his own sick and twisted needs thrown into his face, into Dean's face.

She'd made him face the awful truth inside himself and he'd never forgive her for that, never forgive himself for that.

_…now Dean knows…._

His mind skitters away from the memory again.

He'd never even looked at that part of himself before, shoving it down deep and keeping it there because it was worse than wrong, worse than sick and he_ loves_ Dean. How could he love so deeply and still want to do that…that evil thing-

And now, he can't deal, can't function and he sure as hell can't face Dean about it. The feelings rise up in him and he fights them down, _won't look_ because that would be _admitting_ it, revealing the monster within himself and he can't, he just can't…

Christ, it can't get much worse than this.

#

Dean's finally been sprung, clean bill of health, and they're gathering up his belongings, getting ready to ditch the hospital before the nurse comes back with the discharge papers…and the bill. Sam is stuffing clothes into a duffle, head down, unkempt bangs hiding his eyes, deep in thought.

They haven't talked about what happened, just content to sit quiet with each other when Dean is awake, watching television together or just listening to each other breathe. Sam is so filled with remorse and hatred of himself that he can barely stand to be in his own skin, can't look at himself in the mirror, can't look at Dean full on, and the whole damn thing's making him skittish as hell.

He jumps sharply when Dean claps him on the shoulder. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Sam mutters, taking a deep breath before easing open the door and checking the hall, "All clear."

Dean scoots out behind him and they quick-walk to the stairs and down to the car, Sam settling Dean in before jumping behind the wheel, tromping a heavy foot down on the gas and opening her up, motor purring and growling through town to the outskirts where their motel is.

Cheap and close to the hospital, it had been just the place Sam needed, dumping their camping equipment and their clothes before high tailing it back to Dean's bedside. Now, he tosses Dean the key and grabs the duffel out of the back, stopping to take a deep breath of courage before slowly following his brother into the room, shutting the door with a firm thump.

They're alone. Showtime.

No sooner has the latch clicked behind him than Dean is on him, crowding him up against the door jam, his lips warm and soft on Sam's neck, kissing his way up to Sam's mouth, desperate and hungry. His hands slide under Sam's flannel shirt and tug his t-shirt up, hot fingertips caressing Sam's abdomen and ribs, gliding around to his back and slipping under the waist band of his jeans, sweeping over the slope of Sam's ass. Dean fits himself into Sam, molding his crotch up tight, rubbing in a sensual circle, slotting in perfectly and his mouth-

His soft lips move, greedy and hot, pushing Sam's mouth open, thrusting in with his tongue, searching and finding Sam's, slipping over and around, licking and dancing erotically, going deeper, pulling Sam in, breaking down his resolve and ripping a moan of desire from him even as Sam is pushing him away, fighting not to respond.

"D-." Sam manages a gurgled sound before his lips are captured again, electricity shooting through at the taste of his brother, the sensuous swirl of Dean's tongue over his and the feel of Dean's body pitching up hard against him, all too much for his fevered brain to handle. Sam's thoughts are skittering, jolting with the sparks pulsing through his nerves and he's hot and cold at the same time, losing his breath in Dean's kiss because it's been so long and Dean feels _so good_…maybe just this once, it'd be ok to-

NO!

With superhuman effort, Sam wrenches away, bringing both hands up to grip Dean's shoulders and shoving backwards, breaking the kiss and holding Dean off, his brother's lips still searching the air for a second until he realizes Sam's gone and then his eyes pop open and he stares at Sam's swollen mouth, entranced.

"God, I've missed you."

"Dean. We can't do this." Sam whispers.

Dean grins at him, predator to prey, barely hearing, not taking his eyes off Sam's well-kissed lips and his voice is hoarse with passion, "Come on, Sammy, it's been three whole days…I got a new lease on life here, gotta make the most of it."

Sam is trembling, struggling for control, wrestling with the memories of the last time he'd felt Dean's warm skin against him, and fear slashes through him, adrenaline and his fight or flight is screaming in his head to run away as fast as he can. He steels himself against the panic, focusing on his voice, keeping it calm, "No. The doctor said no strenuous exercise. You need to rest, take it easy, relax."

"Sam, you're gonna have to trust me when I say this will _so_ help me relax…" Dean give a throaty chuckle, running his thumb over Sam's bottom lip and down, over his chin to where a pulse is hammering in his throat, staring at it lustily before leaning in to snake his tongue across it, humming against the skin and making Sam gasp out a moan, "In fact, I can't think of a better way for me to relax."

His hands slide up behind Sam's neck, pulling him down, mouth wet and sweet on Sam's and God, he tastes so _fucking good_ that Sam is shaking with effort, trying not to lose control, to not grab Dean and throw him to the bed, rip off his jeans and take him right here, right now-

He can feel Dean's excitement between them, stone hard, ready and Sam's body responds against his will, swelling up thick and painful, ignoring the warnings Sam's head is screaming at it, not taking no for an answer.

"D-Dean, I said no…" Sam's stuttering, frantic, trying to stop this, desperately clinging to the last shred of control he has but Dean is relentless, hand between them now, gripping Sam through his jeans and squeezing tight and Sam's head smacks against the door as he gives a half-sob of fear, trying to get away.

"Dean! Listen to me!" He clamps down on Dean's wrist, squeezing hard and pulling him off, away, voice harsh with emotion, "I said stop! _Now_!"

Dean steps back, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, "Sammy? What's wrong?"

"I just can't, ok? Just stop."

Dean searches his face, disbelieving, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious." Sam says, firming his jaw, dropping Dean's wrist like it's fire and rolling back his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in them. He presses himself further into the door to get more space between them, desperate not to touch, not to feel, tucking his hips back and willing with all his might for his dick to soften and his breathing to level out.

"What the hell, man?"

"I just need you to…need you to rest up and take care of yourself. I can't lose you again, not again. It was just…I just can't." Sam's voice is quieter but still edged with panic.

"Sam, you're not gonna lose me again. I'm fine. Docs say I'm good as new, raring to go." Dean reaches up to touch Sam's shoulder, trailing fingers lightly down his arm to his hand, pulling Sam's fingers forward and rubbing them against the bulge in his crotch suggestively, "You feel me, Sammy? This is how fine I am."

He leans in close to Sam's head, breathing softly, coaxing, "Come on, Sam. I miss you…" and licks up around the shell of Sam's ear and back down, taking the lobe in between his teeth and nibbling gently.

A shiver works its way up Sam's back, making his knees go weak and his mind shuts down…_shit_, Dean knows how much he loves that! He feels his resolve sliding away, leaving in the rush of desire that's flaring up inside him at the feel of Dean, the smell of him and he's opening his mouth, letting the words flood out, needing to _tell_ Dean so he'll stop-

"Dean, it's-it's all my fault that this all happened…if I hadn't been possessed, you wouldn't have gotten hurt and I wouldn't have-"

Sam swallows convulsively, unable to finish, can't even say the word, _damn it_, because it's huge and raw and hurting, _can't face it, can't face it_ and he closes his eyes on it, afraid.

Fuck! He's got no spit and can't swallow for the life of him, can barely breathe through it, truth be told but he's gotta let it out, gotta come clean because they'll never get through it otherwise.

He steels himself, forcing the word out of his lips, not able to look at his brother "I tried to _rape_ you, Dean, remember? I can't forget that and I sure as hell can't forgive myself for that. Don't you get it? I can't let myself touch you-I don't…I can't be trusted…"

"Sam, look at me."

Sam shakes his head, staring at the ground, not wanting Dean to see his self-disgust, "No."

A hand under his chin forces his gaze up and Dean dips his own head, catching Sam's eyes and holding them steady, "Are we laying blame here, Sammy? Ok, then how about it was my fault for tricking you and getting you hurt in the first place? You ran into the storm to save me, remember, and if I hadn't done that, you wouldn't have gotten cut across your tattoo and you wouldn't have been open to possession. So, it's my fault, ok?"

Sam pushes past Dean and paces, agitation making his stride rigid, jumpy, "Dean, I tried to _rape_ you and I almost did it, too! I saw myself doing it and I _wanted_ to, Dean, God help me, I wanted to take you and…_hurt _you and I'm not gonna lie to you or to myself anymore. I'm a sick bastard, ok? Lower than the worst slime on earth and it's still in me, I can feel it and it might come out someday, and then-"

His voice is cracking, breaking, "I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you like that, Dean! I can't trust myself around you anymore so this- this isn't gonna happen. We can't be lovers anymore, not ever again-"

Sam's eyes are glittering with unshed tears and his throat works to keep them in, "I love you too much to-" A tear spills over, rolling down his cheek to his mouth and he slaps it away, "Just no, ok?"

He risks a glance at Dean's face, surprised at the simmering anger he sees there, his brother's lips pressed into a thin slash, eyes snapping with suppressed rage and Dean is biting out the words, whip snaps cracking through the air, "That's bullshit, Sam and you know it! Can't trust yourself, my ass! I trust you - with my life! You didn't let anything happen, Sam, you took control and you stopped it! You took on a seriously strong pissed off ghost, you pushed your way forward and you saved me from her and then you made damn sure she couldn't touch me again! Turning on the water was a freaking genius move on your part so you ended up saving me _twice_ but yeah, guess you're right, you can't be trusted…"

Sam tries to push past Dean, shaking his head in denial and Dean stops him, iron grip on an arm, halting him in his tracks, "You're not going anywhere until you get this! I'm here now, because you were strong enough to stop that ghost. You did that, Sam - you." Dean thumps Sam on his chest, "I'm alive because of you and I want this- ", he motions between them, "I want this so fucking much, you just don't know. I need you to know that I'm alive and I need to know it, too so please, Sammy…please."

Sam wars with himself, wanting to give in, hell, _aching_ to give in but so fucking terrified of what might happen, he's frozen in place, hopelessness taking him over at the thought of never being able to have Dean again if he does this, makes the break, cuts quick and clean, and he's dying inside, heart shredding, bleeding-

He _has_ to do this, has to stop them from being lovers again, for Dean's sake. Fucking _has_ to-

Dean's voice cracks and breaks, his need a living thing, "You gonna make me beg you, Sam, is that what you want me to do? 'Cause I will…I'll beg and I'll fight you every step of the way because you are _not_ leaving me now, Sam. Not after all we've gone through to get here."

Sam's voice is ragged, hoarse, "Dean, I'm scared. What if I can't control it?"

Dean shakes his head, his eyes filling with tears as he admits his own heart, "Look, Sam, the way you feel inside – the way you felt in the shower? I feel that way too, every damn time we're together. I want to own you, mark you, and make you scream my name…I want to bite and claw you, hold you down and take you rough, take you mean."

Sam stares down at him, stunned and Dean gives a sad smile, "I get it, Sam, I totally get it – how you felt, 'cause I feel that way, too and I _want _that from you, Sam. It might be sick and twisted but damn it, it fucking makes me crazy that you want me like that and I-I want to do the same thing to you-"

Dean takes in a deep breath and squares his shoulders, "Come on, get your coat."

"What? Why?"

"We're going back."

"What do you mean we're going back?"

"I mean we're going back to the campgrounds, to the shower and you and me? We're gonna have some fun."

#


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** **This is it, the end of the line. Thanks for hanging with me during this t****al****e of ****Winchester**** loving. I hope you've enjoyed the ride and don't worry. There's ****al****ways another Wincest story just around the corner :D**

A friend brought to my attention that Dean, after spending three days in the hospital, shouldn't be doing anything strenuous like having mad animal sex but I keep thinking about how when Sam, brought back from the dead, wouldn't listen to Dean and take a rest either so in my story, my Winchesters are superheroes, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound (ok, well, maybe not) but they at least never admit weakness, defeat or that they may not be up to having mad animal sex in the shower. Hey, give me a little leeway here. I don't want to write a boring two-day wait until Dean feels up to it. So, I acknowledge that it's not realistic but sorry, Isaac, mad animal sex ensues. :D

Song lyrics below by Kelly Clarkson-Beautiful Disaster

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_He's soft to the touch  
But frayed at the end he breaks_

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_This is a bad fucking idea._

Dean's fingers tap against the steering wheel, keeping time to Zeppelin thumping through the Impala's speakers. He keeps glancing over, trying to catch Sam's eye, almost speaking but stopping himself, thinking better of it, letting the silence flow over them, breaking it every so often to sing softly along with the music.

_A seriously bad fucking idea._

Sam stares out the window, nerves jingling in his skin, lungs squeezed for breath and he rubs his sweaty palms over his thighs, can't look at his brother because Dean'll see the fear shaking through him, that he's trying so hard to hide and he's not ready for this, not at all. It's not like Dean's giving him much of a choice, though – nope, he wants this settled yesterday and he's not going to take no for an answer so all Sam can do right now is hang on and hope he can keep a grip, keep his emotions clutched tight and not let go, not even for a second.

At the lake, Dean pays for two days, asking if Campsite 22 is available and smiling when he's told it is, handing over the map to Sam and driving off, reaching over to squeeze Sam's thigh and resting there, nodding confidently when Sam finally works up the courage to look over.

"It'll be ok, Sammy. Promise."

Sam wishes he could believe him._ Shit, this is a bad idea_.

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Dean parks the car and shuts it off and they both sit, listening to the quiet, letting the peace of the place fill them up, the smells and sounds reminding Sam of how _good_ it had been before, him and Dean, and his face flushes with desire. He's shifting in his seat, jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight over his crotch and Sam finally manages to look full on at his brother, staring at his profile. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

Dean slides his eyes over to Sam, a grin tugging at his lips and Sam sees the memories crowding on his face as well, "Good times, right? Sam, we have to come back here in ten years and camp out for the weekend, just for old times sake, huh?"

Sam tries again, to talk some sense into his brother, to talk him out of this, "Dean, I don't want-"

"Come on, gonna be dark soon. Let's unpack."

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The rope is stiff between Sam's trembling fingers and he tries to roll a slipknot into it but he can't work it right, _doesn't want to do this and damn it, he's not going to_, finally throwing it down in disgust. It's twilight at the lake and they're in the shower, back where they were three days ago and the memories of this place crowd in on Sam, picking and cutting into him until he's quaking numb.

Dean looks up at him questioningly, searching his face in the dim glow of lamplight and Sam shakes his head, "Dean, no. I can't."

Dean's jaw tightens, the tic in his cheek fluttering wildly and his eyes take on an angry glint. He exhales, nodding, "Ok, Sam, we'll do it your way. We'll go back to being just brothers again if that's what you want and just forget this whole thing ever happened."

Rubbing at the tension in his neck, Sam is so grateful that Dean is finally giving in and understanding that he doesn't catch on to the anger simmering under his brother's skin, instead, nodding gamely back, whispering, "Thanks, man. Thanks."

Dean continues smoothly, his voice hardening into stone as he speaks, "Lots easier to do that than actually work at this, right? Taking the chicken-shit way out's always worked for you before, hasn't it, Sammy? You ran away from me when you went to Stanford and you're running now-"

"What?" Sam can't believe Dean just said that to him, "That's not true!"

"No? Well, it is from where I'm standing!" Dean mimics him, voice high and feminine, "Oh, Dean, I just can't do it…I'm afraid. Well, you know what? Screw you, Sam!" And he pushes past Sam to go outside.

"Dean! Come on!" Sam follows blindly, reaching out a hand "I need you to try to understand!"

"Oh, I do understand, that's the pathetic part. I don't even know who you are anymore, man. My brother would never lay down and die like this – give up something he's wanted his whole life because the going got a little tough, because he got _scared_ unless-"

Sam's heart skips a beat in his chest "Unless what?"

"Unless you've been lying to me this whole time, feeding me a line of shit, telling me how much you wanted this, wanted me and not meaning it for a second."

A lick of anger curls through Sam's stomach, "You know that's not true!"

Dean growls out the words, "I don't know anything right now, Sam, not anymore. All I know is, we were together and I got hurt and now...everything we said, everything we did, doesn't seem to matter to you anymore. I trusted you, man, let you see _me_, all of me- ", Raking his fingers through his hair, self-remorse in every move, Dean shakes his head against the memory, "_Jesus. _Double standard is what it is, ok for me but not for you? When it's you that gets exposed, you just fucking get to run? Just-"

Suddenly, his shoulders slump, all the fight gone out of him and he looks past Sam, towards the woods in sadness, "Just forget it, all of it. I don't want you anymore either."

And he's stomping away before Sam can get out another word.

Sam stares after him, stunned. Dean didn't mean that, he couldn't. Why can't he understand that Sam's only looking out for _him_, trying to protect _him_ and it's _because_ Sam loves him, not because he doesn't. Dean's got no right to question how deep Sam feels, how much he feels-

And he's got no right to call Sam a coward, worse still, a liar. Especially when it was _Sam_ that made them come together in the first place, forcing Dean to face his feelings and not taking no for an answer when Dean ran, making Dean admit and reveal, breaking down every wall his brother could erect until Dean let him the fuck _in_.

Yeah, who's the fucking coward in all this? Sure isn't him and if it's the last thing he does, he's gonna make Dean take back those words. Chicken-shit, my ass!

The thought that Dean just got out of the hospital flickers through his brain and is gone just as fast, if this is the way Dean wants it to go down, then Sam's gonna fucking give it to him, both barrels and guns blazing.

With the burning lick of anger crowding into his brain, Sam firms his jaw and starts after his brother, the determined lope of his long legs easily catching up to Dean, stamping hard so Dean can hear him coming. Sam sees his brother turn back for a look and stop, wheeling around at the wrath, at the rage evident on Sam's face, and Dean takes his stand, clenching his fists at his sides, ready for it, knowing Sam too well to even think this is gonna end friendly.

Sam doesn't stop, just barrels on through, throwing himself into Dean, using his body weight to carry them down and they hit hard, with a thud of bones, twigs and sticks poking as they roll, each wrestling for top. Hands grab and pull, fists pummel and elbows jab, muscles straining, torsos and hips twisting and writhing, grunts and curses peppering the air as they punch and claw at each other.

Dean manages to flip him and Sam's head catches the edge of a rock, flares of pain giving him tunnel vision for precious seconds as hands slam his shoulders down, holding him fierce and he shakes his mind clear, feeling hot breath panting in his face.

"Stay down, you son of a bitch!" Dean snarls at him but Sam won't, not now and he lunges up with his forehead, catching Dean just under the chin, hearing the crunch of jaw and when the fingers gripping him go slack, he bucks up his hips, using his whole body to throw Dean to the side and off.

He manages to scramble to his knees before Dean hits him, knocking him backwards but he doesn't go down, refuses to, he's more pissed than he's ever been in his life right about now and he doesn't even duck the next swing, falls right into it, using it to fuel the red hot anger surging through him-

The rage has been smoldering inside him for days, ever since that fucking spirit took away his control and with a roar, he strikes, with all the fury and pain seething in his gut and the sound his fist makes against Dean's cheek, the wet thud of skin on skin barely registers the first time, or the second or the third. Only when he sees Dean go down and stay down does he stop, breathing harshly into the dusk, staring down at his brother wondering what the fuck he just did.

"Dean?" Sam croaks, reaching down to touch, hands running over Dean, feeling for breath, for life.

A low moan reaches his ears, Dean's alive and Sam's gonna give him what he wants, _God damn it_, gritting his teeth in resolve, gathering Dean up, hefting him over a shoulder and carrying him unsteadily back to the shower, not even noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks.

#

He feels Dean jerk awake, twitching in the darkening night and gives him a moment to adjust, to realize where he is and what's happening.

"Sam?" his voice is hoarse, unsure.

He's standing just behind, pressed up against Dean's back, holding his brother's hips tightly against his own, and Sam dips his head, breathing into Dean's ear, "Right here."

Dean looks up and tugs at the ropes around his wrists, binding him to the shower head, "I thought you-"

Sam cuts him off sharply, "Shut up. No talking unless I say you can. If you speak again, I'll gag you."

He hears the hard swallow, feels Dean tense up and smells the arousal, the fear, rolling off his brother in waves. He licks his tongue along Dean's earlobe, slowly, gently, up and down, mumbling softly, "Do you like this? Do you like knowing that I'm going to do whatever I want to you and you can't stop me?"

Sam's hand rolls over Dean's hip and slips under his shirt, smoothing the skin on his lower belly tenderly before sliding down, under the waistband of his jeans and over the growing bulge in his underwear, gripping rough and squeezing tight, pulling a low moan from his brother before Dean manages to bite his lip and cut off the sound.

Pulling his hand out, Sam grips the collar of Dean's t-shirt in both hands and yanks, ripping it away with a satisfying slash, leaving Dean's chest bare and glistening. Sam stands back a moment to admire the view, the dim bulb overhead illuminating the tan muscles, the wide expanse of chest that tapers to a firm waist and he can't help himself, he has to touch, has to have this-

He tears the rest of the tattered cloth from Dean's back, earning a grunt from his brother and says with satisfaction, running his fingers over the taut back muscles, around the biceps and shoulders, "Much better."

One hand grips Dean's jaw, pulling it rough to one side, baring his neck for Sam's kiss and he bends over the soft skin, licking a path down from ear to shoulder and back up, biting and nipping along the tendon, sucking small marks in Dean's flesh as he strokes his other hand up and over the flat abdomen, feeling the skin twitch and roll under his fingers. Goose flesh rises on Dean's arms and he shivers against Sam's lips, the tremble stirring Sam's arousal, his erection swift and painful and he moans against the sweet taste on his tongue.

"Mmmm, delicious…" He hums against Dean's throat, smiling as his brother's body gives an answering jerk, knowing Dean's nerves are probably tingling sparks of fire under his skin right about now.

Sam releases Dean long enough to yank off his own shirt, dropping it behind him before he's back, molding his chest to Dean's back, hot skin to hot skin, tickling along the shuddering ribs, whispering across before tapping gently and sliding up over the nipples, caressing lightly with the pads of his fingers before sharply pinching them to hardness.

"_Jesus_-" Dean is shaking now, trying not to speak but his body is taking over, the gasps and moans of delight being pulled from him are music to Sam's ears and when Sam's hands go to Dean's pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, his brother's hips start thrusting, straining towards Sam's hands and the pleading whimpers falling from Dean's lips are almost Sam's undoing.

Sam takes a deep breath for self-control and pushes the jeans and underwear down over Dean's hips and legs, letting them drop to the floor.

"Kick them off." He whispers in Dean's ear.

When his brother complies, Sam continues, muttering hotly, "Just so you understand. This body is mine."

His hand finds Dean's dick and grips the base tight, his palm hot against the shaft and Dean's back stiffens at his touch. "This is mine."

"And this ass…this-" he breathes the words into the air between them, working his middle finger of his other hand into Dean and jabbing roughly, "this sweet, hot, hole is all mine…"

Dean bites off a moan at the intrusion and Sam pushes in another finger, plunging deep, growling his possession, "Mine. No one else's…say it, Dean!"

Hissing out his breath when Sam stabs into him again, Dean manages on a groan, "Y-yours, Sammy, _Christ_…, all-all yours…"

Sam bites into Dean's neck hard before licking over it, pain before pleasure, his brother shivering under his mouth, "That's right, Dean. Now I'm gonna make sure you never forget it…gonna make sure you feel me for _weeks_…"

He shoves his legs in between Dean's, spreading him wide apart, and starts to jerk Dean off, working his palm up and down, dragging the skin, letting his thumb roll around the sensitive tip, circling the slit with each upward drag, fucking into Dean's ass with his other hand and soon, his brother is gasping with delight, rolling his hips forward and back, not knowing which way to thrust, muscles rigid with desire, with tension.

Sam lets his fingernail scrape along the bottom of Dean's dick, along the pulsing vein that lay just inside his velvet skin and earns a bark of pleasure from the man writhing uncontrollably in front of him. He slowly curves his fingers still buried in Dean, stroking in and out, searching with each inward jab, until he hits the pleasure zone, the live wires that cause his brother to almost jump out of his skin at the touch.

Dean can barely keep still now, whining deep in his chest and spreading his legs obscenely, wantonly pushing back on Sam's fingers, thrusting his ass up and down, his eyes closed in ecstasy, teeth bared in a snarl at the rush of sparks surging through him, delivered by his brother's rough hands.

Sam lets his thumb flick over the tip of Dean's dick again, scooping up the pearly drop oozing from the slit and bringing it to Dean's nipple, rubbing the wet over the hard nub and then flicking at it with his finger, sharp stings that make Dean twitch and writhe. Back down, Sam thumbs over the tip of Dean's cock again, gathering up another silken tear and bringing it to the other nipple, rolling and pinching the peak stiff until it almost throbs in Sam's hands.

Dean is huffing and gasping so loud, Sam's sure the whole world can hear him and his body is rolling and pitching, white-knuckled hands gripping the shower head above him, and he turns his head towards Sam, mouth forming silent words "Please, please", begging Sam to take him, fuck him but Sam shakes his head, holding back. Not yet…not yet.

Sam's hand is back down at Dean's cock, stroking and pulling, Dean's hips rocking forward to meet him and Sam's thumb scoops up another drop of sweet come, sliding up Dean's body, bypassing his nipples, going higher until he reaches Dean's soft lips, pressing in until Dean opens for him, takes his thumb in to suck, swirling his tongue around and over, licking it clean and giving a moan of dismay when Sam takes it back from him

Sam reaches down to his own pants, unzipping and kicking them off, his cock falling free, hot and heavy as he spits into his hand and slip slides his palm over himself, getting his shaft good and wet. He pulls his fingers out of Dean and spits on them, shoving back in, working Dean open and Dean responds eagerly, welcoming him back with moans of bliss.

"You know what I'm gonna do now, Dean?" Sam breathes into his brother's ear.

With his other hand, Sam pushes down Dean's back, bending him over, shoulders wrenched at this angle because of how he's tied and it must be painful but Sam just forces him lower until his ass is jutting out, defenseless and wide open, just waiting for a hard dick to be shoved inside. Sam's hands are on Dean's ass now, spreading him even more, positioning himself for the line drive and he wedges the head of his dick into Dean's tight hole.

"I'm gonna fuck this ass-" and Sam shoves in, burrowing only a few inches as Dean grunts out in pain, rock hard sphincter muscles shutting down, blocking access.

"As hard as I want-" Sam pulls out, thrusting in sharp, not giving Dean time to fill his lungs with air before he's forcing a gasp out of him, laying a line of fire straight up into Dean's ass, and he's wiggling and groaning around Sam's dick, which, truth be told, is making Sam feel pretty damn good right about now.

"For as long as I want-" Sam jerks backwards, plunging in again, halfway there now and he's shoving on through, forcing his way past Dean's muscles and finally Dean breaks, a shout bursting out of him.

"Fuck, Sam! Give me a…gotta breathe, man!" Dean's got a death grip on the ropes around his hands, panting and wheezing in his chest, trying to relax his muscles so he can take in the gargantuan dick trying to split him in two. Sam stops, dead quiet and reaches around, pulling Dean's chin sideways, so he can see his brother's profile.

"I said no talking!" and his hand cups over Dean's mouth, fingers digging in under the sculpted cheekbones, feeling the moist breath on his palm as his brother huffs against his grip. He slides his cock almost all the way out of Dean's ass before bucking forward again with a mighty thrust of hips and Dean groans against his hand, eyes closed tight. Again and again, Sam jerks out and pounds in, catching Dean's grunts and moans in his sweaty palm, until finally, Sam's in, buried to the hilt, balls smacking up against Dean's ass.

Sam leans down over his brother, suddenly realizing he's crying and doesn't know how long that's been going on but he's glad Dean can't see, glad Dean doesn't know just how much Sam hates himself right now for loving this. Fact is, Sam's never been so turned on in his life, the sounds coming from his brother turning him feral, wild and he wants to mark Dean, _own_ him and keep those whimpers of pain coming fast and furious until all Dean can think, all Dean can feel, is Sam.

"You like that, Dean? This is what you wanted, right? For me to take you rough…to hurt you? Are you happy now, you son of a bitch?" Sam almost sobs the words at him, pulling out and jabbing in sharp, deep, again and again, crying and fucking his brother's ass hard and fast, ripping Dean wide open-

Dean is wheezing out hot breath against Sam's hand, trying to straighten, pulling himself upright by his grip on the rope and he turns his head towards Sam slightly, catching his gaze and to Sam's astonishment, he feels Dean's tongue against his palm, swiping once then twice and he slowly lowers his hand, gaping at the steamy heat in Dean's eyes.

"Dean, what-"

"I need your – I need your fucking mouth, Sammy-" Dean gasps into the air, straining to twist his neck further, groping with his lips towards Sam's and Sam bends in, unsure, feathering his mouth across Dean's, his tears wetting Dean's face as they touch.

They're not supposed to kiss while he's doing this. Kissing is for when they're loving on each other, not when he's being vicious and brutal, hurting and hating his brother for putting them here. He doesn't understand-

Dean's lips grasp and cling, desperation and need sucking Sam in, pushing Sam's mouth open, fucking in with his tongue, finding Sam's and curling around in a frenzy, teeth clashing together as Dean gives an animal growl of pleasure. He bites at Sam's bottom lip, gritting out wildly "Fucking harder!" , pushing himself back onto Sam's cock, frantically covering Sam's mouth again, kissing the breath right out of both of them.

A curtain lifts in his mind and as fast as a heartbeat, Sam gets it, gets what Dean had been trying to tell him, gets why he craves this-

It's testing limits, taking each other to the edge of endurance and seeing how much they can take, how much they can stand before they break. It's training all over again, just like they've been doing their whole lives and even though he's always hated this life, this weight on his shoulders, training, sparring with Dean was always where he felt the safest, the most loved.

They're like two caribou bucking horns, rutting and ramming each other, family always and forever, their love for each other and their anger at their lives intertwined, interchangeable and Dean's right, it's ok to be like this because this is their normal.

The love that surges up inside of Sam is overwhelming and he kisses Dean back, battening down on his mouth, crashing their lips and teeth together, wild and out of control.

Dean shifts position, lifting up a knee, wedging it in between his belly and the wall in front of him, opening himself up wider, giving Sam a better angle and Sam feels his dick twitch in anticipation as he pulls back and shoves in again, plunging deep and swallowing the answering rumble that jumps out of Dean's throat. Faster and faster, his hips move, bucking up into Dean and falling back, hard thrust and rabid pleasure, the slip-slap of flesh on flesh filling up the air around them.

Needing to breath, Sam breaks the kiss and greedily latches onto Dean's neck, sucking and biting as Dean throws back his head to allow better access. Can't hold off much longer, Sam thinks, half-crazed with the flames shooting through his belly, spreading wide and filling his mind, his balls with hot lava, and he's going higher and faster with each stroke into his brother's sweet, hot ass. Climbing now, almost to the top, he hovers there, burying his dick deep inside Dean as spasms rock through Sam's body, tremors shake as he's slipping, tumbling over the edge, exploding into the warm channel, filling Dean up with his seed, rocking half-hearted thrusts in until he's finished spurting and now he's just trembling with the aftershocks. He can't catch his breath, dizzy and swooning as he takes in big whoops of air, dimly hearing his brother's voice but the roar of blood in his ears drowns it out and he lets himself rest for a moment, sliding out of Dean and holding onto the wall for dear life.

Dean's voice suddenly penetrates, his husky whisper pleading, begging, "Sammy, I didn't-fuck, please, Sam, can you-?" and with a groan, Dean tries to buck against the wall and Sam realizes Dean didn't come, is still rock hard and hurting for release.

Sam nuzzles in under Dean's ear and breathes, "I got you, Dean."

He reaches up, untying the knot that holds Dean to the shower head and turning him around so he's facing Sam, bound wrists dropping over Sam's head, curling around his neck, Dean staring up at his brother dazedly. Sam leans forward, laying a blistering kiss on Dean's soft lips, his tongue swirling in, sucking down the honeyed taste, opening wider and they meet in the middle, eager, hungry mouths taking and giving until they have to break for breath, panting into the stale air between them.

Sam's eyes lock on Dean's as he drops down onto his knees, opening his mouth wide to take in Dean's hot, pulsing length, swiping his tongue along the base as Dean's hips start bucking almost immediately. The sweet taste of Dean's flesh fills Sam's brain and the _smell_ of him, _sweet Jesus_, it's enough to drive a man crazy and suddenly, Sam can't get enough, can't get close enough or get Dean in deep enough. He's diving down, sucking wildly on the throbbing dick in his mouth, grabbing Dean's ass with both hands and yanking him forward, meeting the thrust eagerly, taking him deep and Dean is falling back against the wet cedar wall, cock jerking and throbbing in Sam's hot mouth, muttering in sweet gasps, "God, Sammy, those fucking lips…that mouth…Christ, Sam, so good…love watching you…that's _it_, right there…"

Muffled moans of pleasure work out of him as he feasts, mouth full of Dean so he can't speak but he sucks and licks, and Dean's eyes are half-lidded, glittering down at him in hungry lust, watching his dick slide in and out of Sam's mouth. He can hear Dean's breath, loud and rasping and hands grip his hair, Dean whimpering with each swirl of Sam's tongue, body trembling all over-

Sam reaches around, slipping a finger back up inside of Dean's ass and circling gently, unprepared for the sudden reaction from Dean, _musta hit the right place_, his brother jumping like he just got struck by lightening and Dean's babbling out words, barely making sense, "Fuck, Sam, _fuck_, gonna…_Jesus Christ_…gonna come, gonna...holy _sh_-"

And Dean throbs in his mouth, giving a deep thrust and Sam feels the hot liquid hit his palette, striking the back of his throat and his tongue. He moans on the taste, the salty musk consuming him and he's sucking it down, swallowing fast, not wanting to lose a drop, drinking Dean dry until his brother falls back into the wall, body quaking with tremors, after sparks zinging through him, making him twitch.

Sam pulls off, licking Dean clean and stands up, looping his brother's tied hands around his neck and they stare into each other's eyes, searching for truth. Sam's afraid again, scared he went too far but he's not running anymore and if he overstepped, Dean needs to say that and they need to get this straight.

"Was that what you want-?" he begins and Dean's mouth is on his, swirling in with his tongue until Sam can't think, can't breathe but the answer to his question is right there, kissing the life out of him-

#

They walk slowly back to their campsite, Dean limping slightly but beaming up at him, eyes glowing with satisfaction, with love for Sam and he bumps against Sam's shoulder to get his attention.

"You owe me a t-shirt, dude."

Sam looks down at Dean, shaking his head in response, his own eyes dark with emotion, the fear he's been living with for days gone, disappeared like it never was and he feels a grin tug at his own lips, the love for his stupid damn brother shining out of him, swelling his heart so big it aches in his chest.

There aren't words to say thank you in enough ways, to tell Dean just how broken he was and how whole he _is _and so all Sam can do is bump back, knowing Dean will get it and understand all Sam's feeling right now.

"So." Sam clears his throat, "Camp 22?"

Dean shrugs and his grin gets even wider, eyes crinkling up at Sam in mischief, "I thought later, we might go visit an old friend" and he gestures towards the trees, "Haven't been humped up against a tree in quite a while."

And Sam laughs out loud. Shit, it's good to be alive.

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~The End ~


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